


The Book of Slytherin

by Estelhope



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Family, Good Malfoy Family, Hurt/Comfort, Intelligent Harry, King Harry, M/M, Multi, Neglect, Political!Harry, Politics, Powerful Harry, Pureblood Harry, Pureblood Society, Royal Harry, aftermath of abuse, slight profanity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-31 09:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 49,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8573599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estelhope/pseuds/Estelhope
Summary: When Harry was a baby he was stolen from a very prominent family. Now on his eleventh birthday he will come into some rather difficult truths. Not only is he related to the Malfoy’s, but the balance between Light and Dark is twisted and the Wizarding World is in desperate need of its King.Warnings: Neglect, Abuse, Slight Profanity, Blurred Lines, Pureblood!Harry, Powerful!Harry, Political!Harry, Good!Malfoy’s,





	1. Hard Won Truths

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sifshadowheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sifshadowheart/gifts).



> A/N: Inspired by the fanfiction “Avalon Seven” by sifshadowheart. She is an amazingly talented writer who everyone should totally check out and I hope that she doesn’t take offense to this or believe I am plagiarizing her amazing work.

Chapter One: Hard Won Truths

Harry had never understood why his relatives hated him, or why they closed the curtains when he cleaned and made him do his outdoor chores in the night or early morning. He had never understood it, but he had never questioned it. The first rule to a relatively peaceful life with the Dursleys was “Don’t Ask Questions”. A rule he had learned early on.

Harry may not of understood, but Petunia knew. She knew her sisters terrible secret. She knew why Lilly had married that awful wizard boy. She knew what her sister had taken to her grave. Lilly had had such terrible difficulties falling pregnant. She had tried so hard in the beginning, but the stress of her infertility had made her sick – all but forcing her to give up her dreams of being a mother. This was something Petunia had lorded over her Freak of a sister at first. She had been pregnant with Dudley almost immediately after marrying Vernon. She had waved the ultrasound in front of her sisters’ face and then sneered about the “joys of pregnancy” at the annual family reunion. Until Lilly, perfect, beautiful Lilly, had brought a child to the dinners. A child Lilly had certainly never carried but claimed as hers. Claiming the tiny child to be a year old. Petunia horded that secret knowledge to herself. Never daring to voice her ridicules, but just knowing was as much victory enough. Until she was left with her sisters Secret on her doorstep on that night.

Try as she might, Petunia could never bring herself to love the boy, or even remotely care about her sister son, adopted or otherwise. At first she had held him, fed him and gladly housed him. Until he had started to crawl. The crawling was different than Dudley, different than a normal baby. Freakishness had invaded her home, something she would not allow. So she had turned Vernon’s heavy hand on him early. Let him feel the consequences of using his Freak powers. But the “accidents” never stopped, they only grew more powerful. Until Vernon could no longer use the usual spankings and corner time to stop it for months at a time. The year Harry had turned eight, a great many things changed. The first of which was punishment.

When Harry was eight, he had broken an urn that held Vernon’s parents ashes. The Urn had shattered, scattering the ashes across the carpet in the living room. Then, like it had never happened, the Urn stood on its place on the mantel place and not even a single ash was visible on the carpet. Vernon had stared at the boy in silent horror as the events unfolded. The he had snapped. Grabbing the boy he dragged him by the upper arm into their Dry Storage cupboard. That was the first of many beatings Petunia pretended not to hear. The first of many punishments Petunia pretended didn’t happen. The first day Petunia “forgot” to feed him.

 

* * *

 

Harry laid his dark cupboard under the stairs nursing his bruised arm. Vernon had been angry at the letters. They had kept coming and coming in weirder and more impossible ways. Harry had suggested that he answer one, maybe that would stop them. Vernons face had turned purple and he had grabbed him by the arms and shaken him. All the while shouting “YOU WILL NOT ANSWER A SINGLE BLOODY LETTER! DO YOU HEAR ME BOY?” Harry had earned the belting when he answered,  
“Its impossible not to.” He had been cheeky. He had deserved the thrashing. He was still unsure whether or not he deserved the Shake. The suggestion had been a good one, in his little head. _Why not answer one of letters? Why not ask for whoever was sending them to stop?_ But here he lay. Nursing a few bruises for his trouble and a stinging backside.

Yet, despite the day being Sunday, the letters were there the next day. Petunia had stopped going outside during the day, and Vernon had been twitchy when he went to work the following Monday. Harry spent most of his time curled up in his cupboard. The lie that he was homeschooled worked in his relatives favour. Keeping him home when he should have been at school. Petunia was not stupid though. She knew that having an illiterate nephew would reflect badly on her, so she had taught him until he could read, write and count well enough to teach himself. With so much time in his cupboard there was little else for him to do. He had hoped they would move him into the second bedroom when he had seen the address on the first Letter. Addressed to his cupboard. But Petunia had quickly shot down Vernon’s idea. Harry had heard them fighting the same afternoon he had received the first one. Petunia had refused Point-Blanc. The Freak was to have no room other than the one already provided. Harry found he wouldn’t have minded her second suggestion of sleeping outside too much. He enjoyed the stars when he was forced out of the house once a week to do the midnight gardening.

So Harry sat in his cupboard and listened to the sound of the house, the creaks of the foundation harmonized with his growling stomach, singing him to sleep.

A banging on his cupboard door woke him. “Up! Get Up! Breakfast won’t cook itself!” The familiar screeching chased the last of the drowsiness. Harry waited for the locks to be opened and for Petunia to move away from the door so that he could climb out of his sanctuary. Once he was out he went to the bathroom, washing his face and brushing his teeth quickly and with as little water as he could. Then he moved to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. An English Breakfast then. With a nod to himself he pulled the ingredients from the fridge. Noticing the extra bacon Harry smiled. He knew tonight was his birthday, so bacon was the perfect thing to celebrate with. If he cooked up both packets he could give Vernon and Dudley an extra serving each and slip a piece from their plates without them noticing. He had done the trick before with great success.

Soon the bacon was on plates and the eggs cooked perfectly beside them. Petunia and Dudley’s tea was steeping while Vernon’s coffee brewed. Quickly he checked through the house, hoping to stop any letter from being seen by his aunt and uncle. Oddly enough, there were no letters. The house was as immaculate as he had left it the previous evening and not a single piece of paper or white object had been tampered with. Vernon would be pleased with himself.

And indeed he was.

“I told you Pet, didn’t I? Firm hand is right. We ignored those damn funny letters from Those People” Vernon spat the letter senders title out like they were a bad sip of coffee “and they have finally seen that we have no intention of replying or sending the boy to the Freak School.” Harry rolled his eyes as he cleared the table. A piece of bacon smuggled securely in his hand. He hadn’t had bacon in years. ‘God I hope I still like this” He had prayed when he made his move to swindle the lonely bacon piece. He was so focused on his small victory that he tuned out the rest of the adult conversation that Dudley was desperately trying to pay attention to, in hopes of learning something to lord over his cousin. Dudley never found anything of worth to either Harry or himself.

Unfortunately the peace didn’t last. Just as Vernon’s fork brought his first bite of egg to his lips… an owl flew in through the open kitchen window and landed on the table. A letter clutched in its beak. Vernon and the owl stared off at each other, daring the other to make a move. Vernon’s face turned purple, then he started to shake and Harry could only picture steam coming out of his ears.

“BOY! HOW DARE YOU LEAVE THAT WINDDOW OPEN! HOW DARE YOU LET THIS DAMN OWL INTO OUR HOME! YOU WILL BE IN FOR IT!” Suddenly, like flicking a light off, Vernon’s voice dropped down to a hiss. “I should have given you a proper thrashing years ago. I should have beaten you bloody. You only have yourself to blame for this…. Mess.” Just then Dudley, who had heaved himself from his chair and had been making his way towards the left over bacon strips in the pan, pushed Harry. Right. Into. The stove. Harry raised his hands to catch himself as he fell backwards, one landing in the pan with the bacon grease, and the other on the burner, still hot from the eggs. Several things happened at once. Harry screamed, Petunia shrieked Vernon’s name, Vernon lunged forwards to drag Harry to the pantry and Dudley started laughing. The owl remained on the table, oblivious to the chaos he had perched himself in the center of. The letter that was clutched in its beak, had anyone read it, contained a small note – a warning – that there was to be a visitor at number four Privet Drive on July the 24th at 1:00 pm.

 

* * *

 

Lord Edric Blackwell had been looking for the Heir of the Potter line since the untimely death of his parents. After five long years of searching he had all but given up. He still had his informants out in the world, keeping and eye and an ear open for the Potter Lord. This week he had been particularly desperate to finally find his sworn lord. The cause for the sudden urgency was Harry Potter’s eleventh birthday, one of the most important birthdays wizarding world. Eleven was when children are declared the heirs for their houses or, in the Potter’s case, become the lord of their house. Finally, Harry Potter had been found due to the interception of an owl from Arabella Figg to Albus Dumbledore. If the squib was informing Dumbledore about Harry Potter from her house in Magnolia Crescent, then the Potter Heir was close by. So Lord Edric Blackwell had addressed a letter to Harry Potter in Magnolia Crescent and stuck a tracking charm to the owl. The Owl had never been able to find the Potter heir before, but he hoped that if given a nearby location the owl would find its way. And so far he had been right.

With the new information he had acquired, Edric looked up the family his Lord was living with. They were muggles. The epitome of muggles if he had ever seen any. Vernon Dursley worked at Grunnings Drills, his recent promotion had made the local paper. As had Petunia Dursleys ‘Best Garden’ Award – Three Year Running’. Their son was enrolled in Smeltings Privet School, where Vernon had gone and attributed to his “growing success”. How would Harry Potter turn out, living with these people?

At 1:00 on the dot, dressed in his finest muggle suit, he apparated directly to the location of his tracking charm. Number four Privet Drive. The house was a mirror image of the other two houses on either side of it. The only difference was how the garden was arranged. He knocked on the door. The welcome he received was not expected. Vernon Dursley opened the door and immediately slammed it in his face. He could hear the brief scuffle and some whisper shouting between Vernon and presumably his wife. When the door opened again it was to the simpering face of Petunia Dursley.

“Come in, come in. We weren’t expecting you.” Edric entered the house at the behest of Petunia he immediately noticed the faint smell of cleaning solution mixed with the unpleasant hint of something burning.  
“So you did not receive my letter? I was sure I had sent it early this morning.” Petunia simply gave him a weak smile.

“No post on Sundays.” Was her only reply. She showed him past the kitchen and into the sitting room, where Vernon stood with a glass of whine and a small platter of biscuits on the table. He looked much more controlled than he had at first glance, most likely due to his “warning bell”. Edric smiled almost nastily at the large man. Vernon it seemed didn’t notice.

“Tea or coffee sir?” Petunia simpered, holding a teapot up and poised over his glass.  
“No, thank you. I would prefer to get straight to business.’ Edric half smiled at her, his eyes firmly glued to the fat muggle in front of him.

“A man who knows what he wants!” The fat muggle boomed, his voice all bluster and false bravado. “I agree. How can I help you Mr…” Edric allowed him to stew a little before reply;

“Lord Blackwell of Wiltshire.” Edric could see the greed lighting up the fat muggles beady eyes. Perhaps this would be easier than he had first believed.

 

* * *

 

Usually Harry wasn’t afraid of the dark, just afraid of what would happen to him if the Dursleys forgot about him. Now, however… the darkness was oppressive and heavy. He could feel everything far more acutely. From the hairs on his neck rising, to the sharp stinging in his back from where his uncle had beaten him. The silence and the darkness made the made his sense of touch that much more uncomfortable. Harry could hear the adults talking about something. Whatever it was Harry knew his uncle was excited. He could hear the difference in their voices. Aunt Petunia’s voice became higher and it sounded like she was speaking out of her nose. Vernon’s voice became deeper and it sounded like he was talking through a large inhale. Harry usually found it quite funny, but today he was just too tired. He could feel his eyes becoming heavier and his breath slowing. He knew what was happening. He was dying. Harry wasn’t stupid or optimistic. He knew what Vernon had done and he knew why. He understood that Vernon had gone too far and nothing could help him short of magic.

But magic didn’t exist.

 

* * *

 

As Harry’s heart beat slower and slower, his magic was growing. What Harry didn’t know was that magic had saved him. When Vernon had beaten him for the first time his magic had saved him. When he had been left at home for two weeks with no food or water, his magic had saved him. Just as magic was saving him now. It twisted itself into his wounds, trying to seal the skin and clot the blood. From where Harry had hit his head, tiny wisps of magic were subconsciously directed to form protective mesh around the cracks in his skull. The burns on Harry’s hands were being used to strip away the damaged tissue, while magic worked at repairing the nerve damage.

But as the tiny wisps of magic worked. Harry’s magical core grew brighter from the stress the tiny subconscious was put under. The core grew brighter until it lit up Harry’s aura and became a visible dot of light, just under Harry’s skin.

 

* * *

 

Edric slowly became aware of a magical presence as he spoke with Vernon of his missing Lord. He could feel the magic growing and pulsing in the air, making the air itself heavy and almost difficult to breath. He could see Vernon beginning to sweat and gasp from the lack of pure air. He too had to pause for a deep breath and to take a sip of the offered tea. Finally the magic grew almost unbearable.

“May I ask to see the boys?” Vernon puffed himself out further and called for Dudley. Apparently not hearing the plural. Dudley lumbered down the stairs. He stood in front of Edric while Edric stared at Vernon piercingly. Finally he coughed and rephrased.

“I want to see all the boys in the household Mr Dursley.” Vernon almost flinched before sneering and lying unconvincingly; “There are no other boys in this household sir.”  
“I am afraid that you are quite wrong about that Mr. Dursley. In fact I can feel his magic from here.” Petunia and her husband grew very pale at the word “magic”. Petunia held her breath while Vernon let all of his out. They stared at each other in a tense, uneasy silence. Finally Edric grew tired of the charade and stood to his full height and allowed some of his aura to leak out and mingle with the already suffocating magic in the air.

“Let me make this very simple for you muggle. I have come for Harry Potter and I will not be kept from him a moment longer. You have hidden him somewhere, but he wants to be found. His magic needs him to be found. Now tell me… where is he?” Dudley was the first to break and all but wailed the location of his cousin.

“He’s in the pantry. Dad put him there after he was finished punishing him!” Edric pulled his wand on the small fat boy, who squealed like a pig and ran from the room crying. Edric turned his wand on Vernon next, who was still in the process of turning a sickly shade of purple.

“You had no right to lay a hand on Harry Potter. None. If you have lain your hands on the Potter heir in violence and mistreatment this pleasant and normal life of yours will vanish so quickly you won’t even realize you had it.” Petunia grew weak in her legs and sank down onto the nearby couch shaking and pasty white in fear. “Now. Show me where he is!”

Vernon stumbled and slowly began to move. Edric was led to a small door in the side of the kitchen; the pantry sank into the ground shallowly, calling for a deep step down into the cemented floor. The only light in the room was that spilling in from the kitchen and the, now, visible aura of magic. The wild magic in the room knocked the breath from Edric’s lungs. He could barely make out a small white dot – seemingly floating in the centre of a white aura. The magical light loosely outlined Harry’s blood covered body.

“What have you done to him?” Edric hissed. Quickly he rushed to the body of his missing Lord. The cuts were healing, but not fast enough. Without professional help, Harry Potter would die.

Edric picked Harry up – ‘Too light. Too small.’ – and with barely a second thought, apparated away from the house. Just as his boots hit the ground in the lobby of St. Mungos he noticed that Harry was no longer breathing, and he couldn’t feel a pulse.

 

* * *

 

**TBC**


	2. Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter diverges from the canon of no technology in the wizarding world. Harry is in St. Mungos and I have added a small amount of technology here so that the doctors and nurses can monitor their patients and give them medication for pain of to calm them down without having to force them to drink it.

Chapter 2: Recovery

Edric paced nervously outside of his charges room, waiting for news. Twice Harry had been put through surgery, and twice he had barely pulled through. A nurse had come out only once to give him an update. They had said that he was unstable, hardly alive, that he should “prepare for the worst”. But twice Harry had pulled through. He had survived. Finally the doctor emerged from Harry’s room. He looked grim.

“Your charge is alive and as well as he could be considering the circumstances. He will live if he can pull through the night. I only have two questions for you Lord. Blackwell: Did you have anything to do with the condition of that boy? And, Did you know?!”

“I apparated him here. The Apparition is what destabilized him further. And of course I knew. If I hadn’t I wouldn’t have brought him here first.” Edric glared at the halfblood healer.  
“Not about the abuse, Lord Blackwell. In fact your actions saved his life. I want to know if you knew of that boys heritage.” That took Edric aback. Of course he knew about Harry’s parentage. He was a Potter. The last Potter. The doctor looked about before guiding him into Harry’s room.

“What I am about to tell you is very sensitive information. Harry is not a Potter by birth. Only by adoption it appears. Lord James Potter allowed for Harry Doe to inherit due to lack of an heir. However, Harry is not just some muggleborn or first generation pureblood. He is the only heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Davenport.” The doctor allowed that to sink in for a moment. He could see the moment the connection was made.

“That is impossible.”

* * *

 

_The one thing that any pureblood will care about more than political power is the continuation of a family line. And the only crime that will have any pureblood up in arms, regardless of magical allegiance, was the unforgivable crime of Line Theft. The stealing of a pureblood heir. Yet the greatest crime to a pureblood had happened and no one was aware. The only son to the greatest pureblood dynasty had been successfully stolen and kept from knowing his heritage. Had Lilly Potter known who she was stealing from she would never have attempted the crime. But she didn’t know as she snuck into the children’s ward in St Mungos and plucked a baby boy from its crib. Hours later the mother of the stolen babe died, joining his father in the afterlife. Any and all traces of the child ever existing vanished from the memories of the nurses and doctors as Lilly made her way from the hospital, towards her home._

Barely a year later the Dark Lord Voldemort, taking the truth of her sons’ origins to the grave, killed her. All except the one fact she had forgotten to consider. Genetics. She may have been a muggleborn, but her years in the wizarding world had made her forgetful of the more natural ways of the world. Lilly had never considered what would happen when her stolen baby grew up to look nothing like either of the assumed parents. Her one mistake would have cost her freedom had she lived long enough for the ruse to be discovered. But now, it would mean a change of fortunes for the stolen child.

* * *

 

When Harry woke it was to the sound of beeping and the shuffling of feet. He was lying on a bed and he could feel bandages wrapped around his arms and chest. There was a pressure in his chest, one he had often felt after sleeping off his injuries from a terrible beating. The pressure was worse this time. He moaned in pain, wanting it to stop.

“Hello there, young lord. How are you feeling today?” Harry forced his eyes open at the kind voice. His vision was blurry but he could make out a face amidst an almost white background. He licked his lips in an attempt to answer, but all he could do was croak. A glass of water was held to his lips.

“Go ahead young lord. You need it.” The kind voice said. Harry was confused. The voice had called him ‘young lord’. He wasn’t anyone’s lord. He was Just Harry. The Dursleys had proven that. He opened his eyes again as the water was pulled away, unbidden he whined slightly.

“Its alright Harry. You can have some more, just not yet. Too much will do just as much damage as too little in your case. Now, little lord, can you answer a couple of questions for me?” At Harry’s hesitant nod the Nice Man smiled gently.  
“Do you know where you are Heir Potter?” Harry shook his head. He had no idea. The last thing he remembered was being in the pantry after his uncle had beaten him.

“Alright Harry. No need to worry. You are in St. Mungos Hospital for Magical Maladies.” At the “M Word” Harry tensed and looked around quickly. If his uncle were nearby he would get it. Noticing his charges distress the Nice Man stood and adjusted something on the monitor beside Harry’s bed. Almost instantly Harry felt a calm come over him.

“Just a Calming Draught Harry. No need to worry. Now, can you tell me who you are?” Harry frowned at the man. He thought the man already knew who he was. He had just called him Harry after all. Mentally shrugging Harry croaked out his answer.  
“Harry Potter.” The Nice Man smiled happily.  
“Very good. My Name is Thomas Flat, and I am a Healer. Though you would be more familiar with the term Doctor, wouldn’t you?” Again Harry nodded. “Now could you do me a favour Mr. Potter? Can you tell me why you were injured like this Mr. Potter?” Harry hesitantly nodded, confused.

“My uncle was angry about the Owl sir. He doesn’t like owls very much I don’t think. We had only just gotten rid of the others see, then this one showed up in the middle of breakfast.” The Doctor nodded and looked like he was thinking very hard. Then the doctor smiled and patted him on the arm.  
“I am going to speak to your new guardian now heir Potter. If you need anything, just touch this little stone here, ok?” The doctor nodded and put a small pyramid shaped stone on the bedside table before leaving the room. Harry looked around the hospital room in wonder. He had never been in a hospital before and this was very new to him. He was a little worried about who his new guardian was. The Dursleys would be angry that he had been taken away, or very relieved. ‘They’re probably out to dinner because of this actually. I think Petunia will be more excited than usual.’ Harry thought suddenly. Would they really be happy without him to cook and clean for them?

“Petunia would probably miss winning Best Garden awards. She always complained about what the neighbours would say if the garden stopped winning prizes. Though she won’t miss having to get up while its still dark in order to let me out of the cupboard.” Harry smiled suddenly, realizing that the cupboard under the stairs was no longer his home. Maybe he would get a bed, or at least some blankets to sleep on. With thoughts of bedrooms and full dinners Harry fell asleep with good dreams and pleasant thoughts.

* * *

 

Healer Flat had been awake since two o’ clock in the afternoon yesterday, working on the young Heir Potter. The injuries he had sustained were grievous to say the least. Evidence suggested numerous beatings and long-term starvation. The pure fact was Harry Potter should not have lived to see the age of ten. He wanted to go to the Dursleys residence and strangle them. The child he had healed and spoken to only a few minutes ago looked healthier than before, and if he didn’t know any better he would have said that Harry Potter had just gotten over a very bad fever.

He approached Lord Edric Blackwell, who was sitting just outside Harry’s room with a cup of bad coffee in his hands. He looked like he was praying, and Thomas knew that if any other child had been in Harry’s position Edric was right to pray. Noticing the Healer Edric stood up and quickly closed the distance between them.

“How is he?” Edric asked nervously, fingers spinning the cup in his hand nervously.  
“He is something else. If I hadn’t operated on him barely four hours ago I would say he is just recovering from a difficult fever. It was more challenging than I would have liked to wake him up, but we managed just fine once he was aware. Physically, you are looking at a full recovery. Magically, he is very drained, which is most likely why it took longer for him to wake than it should have. He will need bed rest for two weeks, then complete magical abstinence for another week. Mentally… I would recommend a mind healer to help sort out and deal with his memories.” Edric nodded at the Healers advice. Thomas knew that the Potter Steward would do anything to help his family’s only surviving heir.

“Is there anything else I should know?” Edric asked quickly, hoping to take stock of what needed to be done to get House Potter functioning again.  
“Earlier, I mentioned magic and Harry went into a panic attack. I think he needs to be introduced to his heritage and spoken to about his new responsibilities.” Edric looked almost sick with the knowledge that Harry had been taught to fear the word magic. This would make the job of setting everything up much more difficult.

“Now Lord Blackwell I have a question for you. What do you plan on doing with the knowledge of who Heir Potter really is?” Thomas asked casually. He needed to know if the Heir was in danger with the Potter Steward.  
“I plan on finding out as much as I can about Lord Potters responsibilities and preparing him for them. What he wants to do will be taken into account, but I will push for him to take on all his inheritances. Even the ones we did not expect.” Thomas nodded thoughtfully be for giving him a sly smile. A plan working itself up in his mind.

“I believe you should speak to Lord Potter’s closest living wizarding relatives. Go to Gringotts once Harry is well and ask them to perform a bloodline test.” Edric nodded. Thomas Flat may be a halfblood, but he was as politically savvy as any pureblood, probably something to do with him being the son of Mirabel Flint, the second daughter of Marcus Flint Senior.

“Of course. When can I take Harry home?”  
“I would like to keep Heir Potter here overnight for observation, but you should be able to take him home tomorrow afternoon. I would recommend going home tonight and have your house elves prepare for the newest resident at Blackwell Hall. But if you would like to see him and introduce yourself now, I believe Heir Potter will not object.” Thomas advised, used to dealing with worried or out of control pureblood Lords. Lord Blackwell only nodded and followed the Healer to his new wards room.

Harry was asleep when they entered the room. A slight smile on his face. Healer Flat approached the glass that kept a monitor on Harry’s magic levels and pulse before moving to wake the sleeping boy. Harry woke much faster this time, but not as quickly as Thomas would have liked. Thomas gave Harry his glasses, which were immediately shoved onto his face. “Those will have to go.” Edric thought as he eyed the glasses distastefully.

“Hello again Harry. I would just like to introduce you to someone. This is Lord Blackwell. He rescued you from the Dursleys and has been granted guardianship over you. Would you like to speak with him?” Harry only stared at Edric, wide-eyed and almost frightened, but more curious than afraid.

“I can stay in the room with the two of you if you want?” Thomas pushed.  
“No. Its ok, you can go.” Harry croaked out, before accepting a glass of water from Thomas. He blushed slightly at his voice. Thomas only smiled and nodded before leaving the room.

* * *

 

“Hello Harry.” The strange man said softly. He looked every bit the Lord that Doc-Healer Flat said he was. He was dressed in expensive looking clothing – that actually looked very odd – and his hair was trimmed smartly to “a respectable length” as Vernon would say.

“Hello sir.” Harry answered the greeting. Lord Blackwell smiled again, lighting up his dark eyes.  
“My name is Edric young lord. I would much prefer you called me by my name.” Again Harry nodded, vowing to remember that. “I have taken custody of you Harry. That means that you don’t have to go back to your relatives ever again. You will be coming to live with me at Blackwell Hall as soon as you are able. Would you like that?”

“Yes sir – I mean E…Edric.”

“Good. I will have a room set up for you tonight. Now, Harry, there is one thing I need to talk with you about before you come home with me. Earlier, Healer Flat told me that you had a slight… reaction to a word that he used. The word magic. Can you tell me why?” Harry looked pale when he said the word but became very solemn when Edric asked his question.

“Because magic isn’t real sir. And Vernon told me never to say that word. That It was a bad word and shouldn’t be said in polite company.” Edric tried his best to keep his face blank and emotions under control, but the anger simmered just beneath the surface. How dare a muggle deny a wizard his heritage. Especially one that could become as powerful as the Malfoy family, more so if what Thomas Flat said was true.

“Well Harry, what your uncle Vernon told you may be true for a muggle like him, but it is not true for you. You see, you are a wizard. A very powerful one if Dumbledore is to be believed.” Edric let that sink in to the child for a moment. Learning you are a wizard would be very difficult. “ You see, when your parents were killed-”

“Aunt Petunia always said they died in a car crash. That they were drunk and were killed for their stupidity. She said they killed people in the crash.” This time Edric did allow some of his anger to show. These muggles had lied to his charge, not only about his heritage but also about his parents and why they had died. This was unacceptable.

“Your parents Harry Potter were not drunkards who crashed their muggle death trap. Neither did they kill people in said crash. They saved more lives than you could count, they are heroes, certainly not criminals. And you Harry Potter are all that is left of their legacy. Your parents left you more than just a name – and a very influential name even in the muggle world. They left you the entire Potter Inheritance, the entire Potter fortune. They left you everything. Which is why I am here.” He waited for the inevitable question of “why?” the questioning of who he was.

“My parents weren’t drunks? They… they were good people?” Was the only question that came, and “You knew them? You could… tell me about them?”

“Yes Harry. Your parents were very good people. And with luck, you will be a better one.” He could see the happiness shining in the child’s eyes. He knew that Harry Potter could maybe be taught everything he needed to know within the years between today and his seventeenth birthday, when he would inherit his full title. There wasn’t enough time for him to learn everything that he had missed up until today. But perhaps there was enough time for him to learn the basics.

* * *

 

Finally Harry was allowed home to Blackwell Hall. The house elves had prepared one of the family rooms closest to Lord Blackwell’s. There Harry had been able to rest comfortably for his two weeks of bed rest. There, as he was left with little else to do but read of talk, Edric taught Harry the standard pureblood greetings and partings. How he should address a person of higher and lower status to himself, and how he should address a peer. During his bed rest Edric also covered the rise and fall of Voldemort as well as the story of the Potter Family Tree, which Harry was to commit to memory before he left for school. Harry – it turned out – was a very curious child and soaked everything up like a sponge. After getting past the mental block of “not asking questions”, Harry never seemed to stop asking. But besides that, he had developed a love for books and devoured everything he could get his hands on. Which was why the library had become one of his favourite places inside the large manor house.

Harry had been reading when Edric summoned him to the sitting room. He had been off bed-rest for only a couple days now and was eager to begin devouring the library. The Dursleys had kept only the most basic books, none detailing how anything in the world worked, short of books that explained with annoying sounds and high-pitched voices what sounds animals made. He had been very excited upon visiting the library, if not a little wary of the magic that the library used to transport the books from higher up shelves. Harry had never entertained the idea of magic as a real thing. It had always been something left for dreams and fairy tales. Something that meant a beating whenever Harry said the word. His uncle had never particularly liked the idea of magic anyway and had used Harry to eradicate it from his household. Or tried to anyway. With a young wizard in the house there was very little Vernon could do to stop magic.

These were the thoughts he had been ruminating on when an odd creature popped into the library right in front of the chair he had been curled up in. Harry let out a cry of shock and dropped the book he had been holding on his lap. The creature, with the snap of his fingers had the book sitting on the table like it had never touched the floor.

“Master Edric is wanting you in the sitting room Master Harry.” Then promptly vanished. Harry sat staring at the spot in which the creature had stood for a moment, unsure of what he had just seen. The, hesitantly, he stood and made his way towards the sitting room, slightly frightened of what was in store for him. Edric had never summoned him before. He had always come to his rooms himself when he needed to talk about his future or ask an important question. ‘It’s just because he feels you are well enough to walk to him now that you are recovered from your operations.’ His mind tried to comfort him, but the doubts were rising even as he grew close to the sitting room itself. ‘Perhaps he’s gotten tired of al the waiting for you to recover and doesn’t want you anymore.’ With a deep breath in, Harry pushed open the door.

The sitting room was nothing special. Simply a small room with comfortable furnishings and a small fireplace. It was a comfortable room with comfortable chairs. Edric, casually dressed, sat in one of the chairs facing the door, a table between the two seats. Beside his was a man Harry had never met before. He looked very much like the doc-healer that Harry had been treated by while at the hospital. He had short dark hair and a soft face. His robes, while casual and loose, looked expensive. Perhaps Edric had grown tired of paying for his expenses and had decided to pass him on to someone else to raise. Or perhaps… this man was looking for a Freak to clean and cook his home while he was away. He looked well off. His guardian and the man were talking quietly; Edric had a small frown on his face and they spoke in near whispers; which stopped the moment Harry made himself known.

“Hadrian.” He always used the long form of his name, refusing to refer to him simply as Harry. “I would like to introduce you to someone.” The strange man stood as Harry entered the room, and gave a short bow of his head.  
“Heir Potter.”  
“Hadrian, this is Healer Cassus Foy, a mind healer. I have been advised by Head Healer Flat that you will benefit from his help.” Harry was confused; he didn’t understand what Edric meant by a mind healer.  
“A mind Healer Sir?”  
“I am a healer – or doctor – for your mind. I help heal the scars that are left inside, the ones that others cannot see.” The strange man spoke up, kneeling to see into his eyes. His eyes were kind Harry decided.  
“So he is not here to take me away?”

Edric closed his eyes in a silent groan. Still Hadrian refused to believe that he had a home here in Blackwell Hall.

“I have already-“ He began, trying to make clear to his ward that he would not be driven from his home. That, in truth, Edric would leave his ancestral home before he ever allowed Hadrian to be removed from it. But before he could finish, Cassus stepped in.

“May I ask why you think Edric would send you away?”  
“Because I am a Freak sir.” And so Cassus and Hadrian’s first mind healing session began.

* * *

 

Cassus had known that his new patient had suffered years of prolonged mental and physical abuse and neglect when he took the project. Healer Thomas Flat had contacted him shortly after his promotion to Head Healer about a high profile patient he had taken on. Despite being of two different social classes, Cassus had always admired and respected the new Head healer for his accomplishments and discoveries in his field, and had been only too happy to accept the file he had been given when taking on the case.

He had gone into the case expecting a frightened child, unsure of what to do and painfully polite. What he received was a boy whoseemed to be in good health and highly cultured. Harry Potter looked well adjusted and happy. But he could see the hint of worry behind his calm expression. And then when Harry asked his question: “So he is not here to take me away?” Cassus knew that he, for all outward appearances, was not well adjusted at all. But in fact he was a scared little boy, unsure of how to act and painfully polite.

Yet, despite their initial conversation and the growing concern Cassus had over the boys mental state Hadrian was as mild tempered and polite as a boy who had been raised in a good home with love and care. Hadrian – as Lord Blackwell demanded he be called – was constantly surprising Cassus with questions and answers that had never come to mind before. And he felt a great swell of pity for the poor muggles who had missed out on such a wonderful child’s life and love. Which brought him now to the core of Hadrian’s fears and the root of his scars. Hadrian had constantly been caught referring to himself as a Freak. Something Cassus was sure Edric had never called his ward.

“May I ask why you call yourself a Freak Hadrian?” Cassus had been working with Hadrian for almost a month, working on healing the small and large scars that were ingrained on the young boy’s psyche, and Hadrian had made great progress since their first meeting. While he still held many triggers like a raised hand, or his impulsive cleanliness of his personal rooms, Cassus knew that his patient would make a full recovery; if only they could get to the crux of his wounds: the title Hadrian wore as well as Heir Potter – Freak.

“My relatives always called me a Freak. They always said that it was something that would never change. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t change my nature.” Their meeting was taking place in the solarium, Hadrian’s second favourite room. It had a large class ceiling that allowed the sun inside. Large flowers and plants were kept inside, making it more like a greenhouse or an indoor garden than a room. Cassus sat on a conjured armchair while Hadrian wandered about the room.

“I see. Can you tell me what you thought about that?” Hadrian gave him a small smirk. It hit rather close to the phrase that was often tied to muggle therapists of psychologists: ‘How does that make you feel?’  
“I remember thinking they were wrong about me. Then… if I couldn’t change, why bother to try? I used to think if I was better they wouldn’t have to hit me so hard or punish me so much.” And there it was. The magic words. Hadrian’s fear of abandonment was tied to that word – Freak – and it was a black mark on the young Heir’s soul.

“Hadrian. Do you know that their treatment of you was wrong?” Cassus asked very seriously, turning Harry’s attention from the plants to his healer.  
“I… I… Maybe if I had tried harder?” Came the innocent, hopeful question. And it tore at Cassus’ heart. Even the most broken or hardened of children would feel a need for comfort and acceptance from whoever had power over them. Harry Potter was no different.

“There was nothing you could have done. You know that Hadrian. Deep down, or at the back of you mind you know this. Now… I want you to take a moment, and as soon as you are ready, I want you to say it. Say that there was nothing you could have done and that it wasn’t your fault.” This was always the hardest part of healing a scar as wide and deep as this one. The acknowledgement that the abused was guiltless in their abusers treatment of them. Sometimes it could take months or even years to get a patient to the point where they could realise they weren’t to blame.

“I… I’m… It… wasn’t… my fault?” The stuttering statement came out as more of a question than anything, but the intent was there.

“Yes Harry. It wasn’t your fault.”  
“I… It w…wasn’t my… fault. It… wasn’t my… fault. It wasn’t my… fault. It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fault!” By the time Harry had said the words without the uncertainty or fear he was crying heavily. Tears poured down his cheeks and he looked so lost.

Cassus enveloped the tiny child in his arms and allowed him to cry out his sorrows as he had never been allowed to before. And with his tears came healing. He would not be better by the next morning, but he was on his way.

* * *

 

“How should I address the goblins?” Harry asked as he pulled his new pair of boots on.  
“I wouldn’t worry about that yet Harry. You are a minor and unable to make decisions regarding your accounts yet, so the goblins will most likely defer to me.”  
“But say they do greet me, I don’t want to be rude.” Edric smiled slightly.  
“Then simply say Merry Met. That is the standard neutral greeting. Now hurry, I don’t want to be late, it is incredibly rude.” Harry gave an affirmative before standing and holding out his hand for Edric to take. The first time Harry had been side apparated he had complained about the handholding, but after being apparated suddenly he had changed his tune.

The pair arrived just outside Gringotts and Edric, careful to keep Harry out of sight and inconspicuous to the public, set a fast pace into the bank. Having never been inside the goblin run establishment Harry needed a quiet reminder to keep his mouth shut and not stare. The two made their way to a teller.

“Key please.” Was all the wrinkled Goblin said, holding out his hand while keeping his books with his quill in the other.  
“We have a meeting with the Potter Account Manager.” Edric stated clearly, without emotion.  
“Key please.” Was repeated. Edric pulled an old, rusting key out of his chest pocket and presented it to the goblin.  
“This is not the Potter Account key.” Edric frowned at the goblin menacingly.  
“No. But it is the Key to the Potter Stewardship and as such I have booked a meeting with the Potter Account Manager to sort out the retrieval of the main Potter Key.” Finally the Goblin looked up from his books and stared at the two before him. If the goblin could look afraid, this one would have. With a muttered apology the goblin hopped down from his stool and led the two into the back hall and knocked on a large door. A silent answer must have come because the goblin opened the door and bade the two enter.

The room was very tall and very wide. And at the opposite end from the door was a desk. Behind it sat a very old goblin. Edric pulled Harry forward and stood in front of the desk, his key still in hand.

“Merry meet, Steward Blackwell.” The old goblin croaked. “Merry meet, Heir Potter.”  
“Merry met Kungrill-Nir.” Edric replied and squeezed Harry’s hand.  
“Merry met.” Harry squeaked out, intimidated by the old goblin.

“Kungrill-Nir, I wish to perform an inheritance test on my young Lord. As the last of the Potter line it is imperative that we know if he carries other lordships to his name so that he can be prepared for the duties they will carry.” Edric requested. While not exactly a lie that wasn’t the only reason he wanted to have Harry tested. Healer Flats simple test had shaken him. If Harry did not belong to the Potter line by blood or blood adoption, then Harry was not eligible to claim the Lordship and the line would either die out, or would pass to the next closest relative.

“Of course. Merely four drops of blood will be required for the ritual. If the heir Potter will provide it…” The goblin looked expectantly at Harry, a small knife extended for him to take. Harry flinched at the implied pain, but complied. The blood was collected in a small onyx cup and poured over a large piece of parchment. Almost immediately names began to appear. The parchment soon expanded, the entire history of the Potter Family spreading out onto the old paper. The family tree grew and Edric began to watch the clock as the tree kept growing. Finally the last names spelled themselves out on the parchment. The goblin himself looked shocked at whatever was etched into the parchment.

“Lord Blackwell I would like to suggest you have a family tapestry made up so that none may question this young mans ancestry.” The goblin croaked, handing over the tail end of the parchment. And there Edric read and reread the last seven names that had been revealed.

_King Alexander Davenport (Deceased)+ Lady Lucinda Davenport nee Serrano (Deceased) =_

_King Brendan Davenport + Lady Ilyana Davenport nee Potter (Deceased) =_

_Lord Consort Thaddeus Davenport nee Malfoy + Princess Madeleine Davenport (Deceased)_

 

**Crown Prince Hadrian James Alexander Davenport-Potter, Duke Gryffindor-Slytherin-Peverell, Lord Ballard-Savage-Rios**

_Inheritances:_

**_The Archaic and Royal House of Davenport, Monarchy_ **

**_The Archaic and Royal House of Gryffindor, Dukedom_ **

**_The Archaic and Royal House of Slytherin (Through Conquest), Dukedom_ **

**_The Archaic and Royal House of Peverell, Marquis_ **

**_Heir to The Ancient and Noble House of Black, Viscount_ **

**_The Ancient and Noble house of Potter, Lordship_ **

_The Ancient and Noble House of Ballard, Lordship_

_The Ancient and Noble House of Savage, Lordship_

_The Ancient and Noble House of Rios, Lordship_

 

Upon the parchment, written in blood, were the names of the last three generations of unclaimed Wizarding royalty. Harry Potter was not only the holder of six highly influential Lordships and two dukedoms, but also the Crown Prince of the entire Wizarding world. Hadrian Potter would be the future king of the wizarding world and he was so far behind on his political and magical education. As if knowing what he was thinking, Kungrill extended a secondary parchment. The Princes birth certificate, called from the archives when the Inheritance test finished. Edric risked a glance down and almost cried in relief.

Crown Prince Hadrian James Alexander Davenport-Potter, Duke Gryffindor-Slytherin-Peverell, Lord Ballard-Savage-Rios

June 30th 1981  
Age: 10 Years

Harry Potter would not be attending Hogwarts in the fall. Hadrian Davenport was a year too young.

“See that a family tapestry is made up, dating back to the first Lord of the House. Expenses will be billed to the Potter Stewardship.” Edric recovered quickly and began to make plans for his wards future. “I would also like to be made the boy’s sole guardian and have access to the Potter wills.”

“We will see what we can do Lord Blackwell.”

“May I ask how Hadrian retained the Potter Lordship, despite his relation to them being two generations back? Shouldn’t it have gone to someone else, of a closer bloodline perhaps?”  
“Dorea and Charlus Potter never sired any other children than James Potter, James Potter sired none. Ilyana bore only Richard Davenport who in turn sired only Hadrian Davenport. He is the sole heir to the Potter fortunes considering these circumstances.” The Goblin informed him.

A few signed parchments later and Edric was indeed the sole guardian of Crown Prince Hadrian James Alexander Davenport-Potter.

* * *

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to mumimeanjudy on fanfic.net for pointing out my mistake with Harry's age and how that effects his inheritances.


	3. A New Alliance

Chapter Three: A New Alliance

Harry didn’t understand what the adults were talking about so heatedly. After coming home from the bank Harry had been sent to his room and told not to come out until he was called. For some reason Edric was angry with him, and was punishing him. Was it the inheritance test maybe? He could hear his guardian speaking heatedly with someone downstairs and the thought that his guardian may be trying to get rid of him suddenly made him panic. But he heeded his guardians order and stayed in his room, fervently trying to remember the lesson he had been taught while on bed rest. He recited the Potter family tree and the greetings for someone of higher station to himself and hoped that when Edric sent him away he would at least go to another family, and not to an orphanage.

Suddenly Mick popped into his room, the uniform of House Blackwell contrasting greatly with the House Elves greyish skin. Despite being introduced to the families House Elves Harry still jumped.  
“Master Edric be calling you to the sitting room. Master says to dress presentably.” This was it. This was the great reveal. Would he be staying with Lord Blackwell or would he be sent away? With barely a ‘thank you’ Harry changed out of his robes and into the nicest ones his guardian had provided besides his dress robes. With a hesitation Harry left his room and headed down to the sitting room where he knew his guardian was waiting, with company.

The company was not what Harry was expecting. Sitting in one of the armchairs beside the fire was an old man, his pale skin displaying the veins on his face and hands. He was dressed impeccably and beside him was a stern looking man with Black hair and a long, hooked, nose.

“So this is the heir to the crown. You never told me he was Harry Potter.” The hook nosed man said, glancing at Edric.  
“No. I thought you may need to see that for yourselves.” Harry could see a hint of anger simmering beneath the old mans calm façade. He had gotten very good at reading peoples emotions at the Dursleys. Everyone had a ‘tell’ for when they were happy, angry or sad.

“May Magic grant blessings on you and yours.” Harry greeted his guests with a short bow, hoping he had done something right.  
“Well. At least he knows the basics. Perhaps he is not a complete lost cause.” The hook nosed man sneered again; eyeing Harry almost like someone would eye a particularly disgusting bug.

“And may you and yours be prosperous.” The old man finally spoke. His voice frail and obviously hoarse, but strong and commanding regardless. Harry looked at him and saw how the old man smiled with his eyes.

“Harry. I would like to introduce you to Lord Pollux Black, and Lord Drummond Prince. They have agreed to help educate you. Lord Pollux is the current Lord of House Black. With his two grandchildren unable to inherit and his own son dead, you as his nephew – many times removed – and as Sirius Black’s blood-claimed Godson, are the only one closest to his bloodline to inherit. You must learn to become Lord Black as well as Lord Potter. He is to teach you politics, great houses and alliances, and how to govern one of the Great Houses of the Wizarding World. Lord Prince, on the other hand, has found your grasp of basic magic to be lacking. He is going to take on lessons in Potions, Light and Dark magic, and – most importantly – Occlumency and Legilimency. You will learn from them Harry. There will be a great many more tutors to be added, and each are from a prominent family. A family you will either have dominion over as their Lord, or a political alliance with.” Harry knew they were waiting for something, for him to object or to throw a fit against the constant lessons that were suddenly being thrown at him or something. But he waited instead. Finally he drew enough courage to ask his only question.

“So… you are not sending me away then?” Harry saw almost every eyebrow in the room go up at the question.  
“No Harry. I will not be sending you away. We have much to teach you and only an eighth of our usual time to accomplish that. You won’t be sent away any time soon without good reason.” Harry allowed his held breath to leave him. He smiled shyly – and slightly embarrassed – at his guardian.

“You may run along now Hadrian. I expect you to be on time for dinner.” Harry nodded and scampered from the room after a quick bow to the guests. He wasn’t leaving. He was learning magic and everything that his father would have learned at his age. Harry was happy, truly, for the first time in his life.

But uncomprehending of the large weight that would slowly press down on him as time passed.

* * *

 

“You didn’t tell him.” Pollux accused, his cracking voice soft.  
“No. I felt it best to allow him one more week to be a normal child. Which is more than anyone has ever allowed him.” Drummond only nodded at Edric’s reasoning. From what the steward had told him, Lord Potter had not only been kept from his heritage, but also from being himself.

“Do you know who you would like to teach him deportment and etiquette yet?” Ever the politician Pollux asked.  
“I was hoping to dip into the family tree a bit further down your line Pollux and ask Lady Malfoy to teach him.” Drummond huffed out a laugh at that.  
“Speaking of which Pollux. Isn’t your little shit of a Great Grandson the closest in blood to you? Your eldest son’s grandson should be the heir to the Black fortune not your cousins godchild.”

“Unfortunately Draco’s claim to the Lordship is negated by Sirius Blacks blood claiming of the Potter heir, my great great grandmother by law’s only living heir. Besides, it will sound much more impressive when they say King Hadrian Davenport-Potter-Black.” The two lords shared a laugh as they listened to the silence of the manor. All three knew that times were changing, and they would have to change with it.

Fortunately, they were heading the change.

* * *

 

For Harry Potter, life at Blackwell Hall was a far cry from the Cupboard-Under-The-Stairs. Having servants and Lords of minor houses coming to meet with him seemed like something out of a book. Unfortunately, with the fairy tale came a new reality. Harry – or Hadrian as Edric had taken to calling him – was a lord of a major house. A house that needed to be governed and later continued. Everything that was a part of being a lord, Harry needed to learn. Lord Black taught him his family tree and Lord Prince taught him his magic lessons. There was little time for fun and games anymore, but he was no stranger to hard work. His life before Edric had been little but work.

He still had some difficulties with flinching when Edric or one of his tutors raised their arms too quickly, or fearing that he would be sent away if he wasn’t flawless, but he knew that Edric cared for him, and wouldn’t really send him away after looking for so long. Edric had insisted that Harry go by Hadrian (“It is your birth name. I will not have you bastardizing the nobility of that name!’). It was difficult getting used to, suddenly being called Hadrian by everyone, including his tutors, his Mind Healer, and the House Elf Mick.

Since his first introduction to Cassus Foy, Hadrian had slowly been recovering from the mental scars his relatives had left him with. It was a slow recovery, but Cassus had promised that he was doing well and instinctual triggers would fade in time. He was hopeful that one day his fears of abandonment and being sent away would disappear soon. He hated how his breath would catch whenever Mick summoned him to the sitting room. But despite his fears, his tutors kept him busy. Lord Prince mercilessly beat into him basic Latin and the important basics to brewing and spell casting. Lord Pollux however took a more hands on approach. Often he would take on the role of Head of the Wizengamot and force Hadrian to make political manoeuvres, manipulate and smooth talk his way into getting what he wanted. More often than not he ended up with the feeling of failure and a long lecture about certain methods against certain people. Edric was a softer teacher, treating Hadrian like his own son. Maths, Languages, and English however were where the usually soft Lord Blackwell gave way to a professor and a disciplinary authority.

Hadrian quickly jotted down the answers to his sums, double-checking them for any mistakes or ink blots. Quills took a bit of getting used to and numerous books to practice his handwriting, but he had learned. He glanced at the clock. His maths lessons finished at noon and he would be able to spend some time reading. Despite his love for the outdoors, Hadrian loved to read, and spent more time buried in a book than others his age would have. He flipped the page in his workbook and began on the next row of sums. Edric would check them over before he was allowed to leave the study room, and if there was an ink blot or a wrong answer he would be assigned another page to go through on top of having to redo his days work on a new page.

“Perfection will be demanded of you as a Lord, Heir Potter. If you show weakness then others will ump on you like prey. You cannot allow this to happen. Cleanliness and tidiness are the first steps of perfection.” Edric had told him when he had asked why he needed to make his private workbooks so tidy. He had taken that lesson to heart and tried to practice perfection and tidiness in all things. He hated letting his guardian down, and by extension his tutors. It wasn’t that he feared them, for if he had Edric would have sent them away. Oh no. No matter who it was teaching him that day, everything always got back to Edric. And if he were good, Edric would praise him, but if he were bad the punishment would be brutal. Edric’s recent favourite had been to deny him time outside during the afternoon, keeping him indoor for longer lessons until he had learned whatever it was he had needed to learn.

Hadrian was shaken from his musings by the ding of the clock, signalling the end of his morning lessons.

“Mick.” He had become more used to calling for the house elf, but he still blushed awkwardly whenever he was greeted with his new titles.  
“Master Heir Potter called for Mick?” The house elf gave his usual low bow and stood to attention, proud to serve his masters ward.  
“Where is Edric please?” Despite his constant reminders, Harry never forgot or refused to be polite to the small creatures that served him.  
“Master Edric is in the parlour master. He is asking me to tell you to expect a guest master Potter.” Hadrian thanked the elf and went in search of his guardian. There would be guests later today then. That meant no lessons for the rest of the day, and a full day of reading. He had lived in Blackwell Hall for almost two months and had grown used to his routine. Despite the lessons and constant expectations, he loved Lord Blackwell like a father. Edric had given him clothes and food and lessons. But more than that he had given him love, and a place to call home.

Despite his lengthy stay in Blackwell Hall, Hadrian still struggled to find his way around the twisting halls. More than once he had called on Mick to assist him out of whatever dead end he had found himself in. More than once he had ended up in conversation with more than one portrait of long dead Potter Stewards. Though Edric did not know it, Hadrian had learned quite a bit about what being a Lord meant from those portraits. His favourite was Maurice Blackwell, Edric’s great-great-great uncle or something like that. Maurice had begun instructing him on who he was responsible for as a Lord. The modernity of Lordships was not lost on the portrait or the boy. He had land that he was responsible for, but not vassals or peasants that lived on it. What he did have, were people he spoke for. People who he had granted positions in the ministry or had given his political and monetary support to open businesses. There were even a few orphanages that were supported by the Potter Lordship. Maurice had been the one to tell him why Edric had been in a state of crisis searching for the new Lord Potter. If the house fell into obscurity or the line vanished, t=hundreds of people would lose their livelihoods.

Hadrian suddenly found himself standing before the portrait of his secret tutor. His thoughts must have carried his feet here.

“How may I help you Heir Potter?” Maurice asked him.  
“I was wondering if you knew when I will claim the Potter Lordship?” This had worried him for some time. He had thought that his trip to Gringotts had been him claiming the Lordship, but everyone called him ‘Heir Potter’ instead of ‘Lord Potter’ so it mustn’t have happened yet.  
“Edric will take you to Gringotts on your eleventh birthday to claim the Lordship. Then he will present you to High Society, other purebloods or those who have been backed by powerful Lords, even a few half-bloods.”  
“So I will have to govern my house? Make political decisions and sit in court?” Hadrian questioned, trying not to sound panic stricken. The thought of being responsible for people’s lives at the age of eleven terrified him.  
“Of course not. You have a steward to govern for you until you reach the age of majority, which is seventeen in our world. Once you are a legal adult you will take your position as Lord of the House. Find a suitable wife and make an heir to continue on the family line.” Hadrian sighed in relief, Maurice’s words comforting him a little. “Now run along. Edric has a guest coming later and you need to tidy yourself up.” Hadrian gave a short bow and ran towards his chambers, determined not to embarrass his guardian.

* * *

 

Lord Malfoy had been suspicious when he had received a letter from Lord Blackwell, the Potter Steward, asking him and his family to dine at Blackwell Hall. He had replied though, agreeing to the dinner. ‘Perhaps the Potter Heir hasn’t been found and he is searching for a possible replacement. A relative. Draco I related to the Blacks, and a double Lordship would only benefit our family.’

“What do you think of this my dear?” He asked his wife, preferring not to make rash decisions before his wife was aware. He was already in trouble with her about Draco’s future; he didn’t want to make this any worse.  
“I think Lord Blackwell has found our lost Potter and is trying to mend bridges before he takes the Lordship. Lord Blackwell would never turn to us for a replacement heir, simply because Draco is already an heir to his own house, and the bad blood between the Potters and Malfoy’s. Lord Black has also informed me that he has been to see the new heir Potter already. Lord Blackwell invited him personally. Severus no doubt has already heard from his Uncle about the Potter Heir’s return, Drummond Prince accompanied Pollux when he went for his little visit.” Lucius hummed, regarding the letter coolly. Narcissa was right. Bad blood between Potters and Malfoy’s meant none would ever be chosen as a back up should the Heir Potter vanish or die before claiming the Lordship.

“You think he is trying to mend bridges?”  
“Edric Blackwell is not an idiot. He knows what he is doing both politically and publically to gain favour for his lord. He wants Harry Potter to be in the best circumstances when he comes into his own. Having the favour of House Black, House Malfoy and House Prince will only create a good face for both the political climate and in the face of the public. Not to mention being the Boy Who Lived on top of that. He would have both Light and Dark factions looking to him. Lord Potter wll be the new House Malfoy if he manages to pull this off.” Narcissa gave a smile, inwardly awed at the lower Lord’s audacity and sheer cunning.

“Well, he wasn’t a Slytherin for nothing. Despite all our teasing that he would never be anything but a Steward…” Lucius smirked; the skinny third year he had teased mercilessly had achieved great heights. Not only was he the Steward to a House with an eleven year old boy as a Lord, but he was moving the pieces of a board together in anticipation for something big.

“I think Draco would benefit from such a friendship. Not to mention the influence of being the friend of Lord Potter by the time they take their Lordships.” Narcissa gave a polite couch as she kicked him in the leg. She disapproved then.  
“That and Draco is so lonely. It will be good for him to have a few friends of his own.” The pointed look was enough to quell ay schemes his mind may have begun to cook up. He was whipped and he knew it. Narcissa had always been a dutiful wife first and foremost, until she became a mother. Then she was almost as dangerous a the Dark Lord himself. But he loved her all the more for it. He had loved her even before they were engaged and they had been just friends.

“When do we need to arrive?”  
“Hmm? Eight o’clock.” Glancing up at his wife, reading on the settee with her legs drawn up beside her and her hair undone, Lucius smiled. He may have done terrible things during the wars, but he loved her enough to do them. And he loved Draco enough to never do them again.

Eight O’clock came faster than expected and the Malfoy family found themselves escorted through the hallways of Blackwell manor by a uniformed House Elf, bearing both the Potter and Blackwell crests. Draco walked between his mother and father, trying not to hide behind his mothers’ skirts.

“Master Blackwell apologises that he cannot be here in person to greet you, but he is being in a meeting.” The elf bowed low and pushed the doors to the sitting room open before popping out of sight. Inside, a young boy with unruly black hair sat reading in one of the armchairs. He was small and skinny, but had a healthy colour around him. Draco perked up and let go of his mothers’ robes.

“Merry met Lord and Lady Malfoy. May magic bless our meetings.” The boy stood and bowed his head. The Malfoy’s gave slight bows themselves; Lucius gave a slight frown at the neutral greeting. The boy was still a child and had likely forgotten which greeting went with which status. Merlin knows he had forgotten often enough himself at that age.

“Merry met Heir Potter.” Was all the reply Lucius gave, content to watch the child’s reaction. All he did was smile and gesture for them to take a seat wherever they chose, then sliding back into the armchair they had found him on.  
“Apologies for my Guardians absence. He was called in to an urgent meeting, he should return soon. Hadrian Potter, a pleasure to know you.” Hadrian Potter was eloquent and well versed in pureblood manners for someone who had only been in high society for a few months, if Pollux Black’s story was to be believed.

“Lucius Malfoy. This is my wife Narcissa, and my son and heir Draco. A pleasure to know you.” Hadrian smiled and nodded politely and set his book aside, carefully marking his place. With introductions out of the way, Narcissa began the small talk, with Lucius content to wait for the Lord of the House.

“How long have you lived with Lord Blackwell, heir Potter?”  
“Hadrian, please. I have lived with Edric for almost two months now. I would prefer not to speak of where I was before that.” Narcissi smiled and bowed to the child’s poorly veiled demand to change the subject. She was hoping to set them at ease, not create a tension between them.

“Are you excited to be attending Hogwarts? Draco will be going this year, perhaps you two would enjoy each others company.” Hadrian blushed slightly.  
“Edric is holding me back from Hogwarts for a year. He wishes to tutor me at home for a year, to catch me up on everything I have missed.” Narcissa hummed slightly, trying to see where to go from there. Draco, oddly enough, stepped in.  
“Would you be joining the first years next year then?”  
“I don’t know Edric wants me to learn all about being a Lord first, then we shall see about leaving home. That’s what he says anyway. I want to go to school this year though. I don’t want to be with the younger kids.” Hadrian blushed again, trying to cover up his embarrassment at being held back a year.  
“Father wont let that happen. He’s on the board of governors of Hogwarts. He won’t let them keep you back. Will you father?” The two elder Malfoy’s shared a smile at Draco’s engagement in his new friends dilemma.  
“Unfortunately Draco, the parents can always decide when they want to send their children to school. But if Lord Blackwell believes that he can keep up with the second years, then he can test out of the first year.” Draco looked horrified at the thought of Hadrian being kept out of school for an entire year, and then forced into classes with those younger than him.

Conversation was kept mostly between Draco and Hadrian after that, with Narcissa and Lucius listening in and piecing together Hadrian Potter from the smallest details he gave their son. They had already learned a great deal.

* * *

 

Edric was growing tired of Albus Dumbledore’s attempts at finding where he was keeping Harry Potter. He was a brilliant manipulator, but he lacked subtlety, and his attempts at trick questions were shoddy and poorly made. They may work on school children, but not on a Lord.

“If you will pardon me Mister Dumbledore, but I have other engagements and you have kept me long enough.” With a brief nod he turned away from the old man and made his way back to the manor. He was already late in greeting the Malfoy’s. Not the best first impression, but he hoped that Hadrian had handled himself well enough. He apparated directly onto the front steps, taking a moment to collect himself before heading into dinner with the Malfoy’s. Upon entering he could hear Hadrian laughing, something he rarely heard when it was just the two of them.

The scene in the sitting room was altogether unexpected. Lord and Lady Malfoy sat on the settee, sipping cups of tea while Harry and Draco were engaged in their own conversations off to the side. The rather large book of magic open in front of them as they spoke animatedly. His ward looked much more relaxed than he had before with any of their other guests. He was practically glowing with happiness. Perhaps the young heir would gain a friend out of this as well as a new tutor. This friendship would be good for him politically as well. Lucius had certainly already seen that, else he would have kept his son beside him.

“Lord Malfoy, Merry Met. I apologise for my delay. A certain headmaster cornered me in Diagon Alley.”  
“Of course Lord Blackwell. I know how difficult it can be to shake him off.” The two shared a private smile before Edric greeted the Lady and Heir Malfoy, respectively.  
“I hope that Hadrian was able to welcome you in my absence.”  
“He was a perfect gentleman. He does you proud.” Narcissa reassured him. Edric felt a sudden flush of pride at his ward. If Lady Malfoy was impressed with him then perhaps it would be easier to gain her as his tutor. She had seen what he knew and how to improve him. She would serve the king well.

“I believe I have kept us all long enough. Dinner?” Helping Lady Malfoy to her feet he signalled for Hadrian to escort his new friend to the kitchen. He watched the two of them together, speaking softly and walking side-by-side, closer than most young lovers even. Perhaps there was something he was missing about his Lord. Lucius had seen it too and was watching the two carefully. A conversation was coming, and neither of the two Lords would like it.

* * *

 

Dinner was a quiet affair. The meal was simple and dessert was only a small bowl of ice cream with toppings offered to the side. The conversation kept the atmosphere light and easy. Any tension that had been there before had evaporated by the time the food was served.

“I hear from young Hadrian that he will not be attending Hogwarts come September.” Lucius opened the door to the topics he had been trying to avoid. Hadrian had been so caught up in his new friend he had likely forgotten one of his earliest lessons. Don’t give away anything that could be used against you. He still had so much to learn. His innocence needed to be worked out of him before it became a threat to his safety.

“Indeed. That is part of the reason I asked you here this evening. But perhaps that is better left until we are in private.” Lucius nodded his acquiescence and dinner continued on.

Before long both Narcissa and Lucius were seated in the sitting room, glasses and a bottle of firewhisky and a full teapot laid out before them. Hadrian had been sent to show Draco his room and the library. After pouring two substantial glasses of the alcohol, Edric breached the topic he had called the Malfoys to discuss.

“It is my understanding that Draco will be going off to Hogwarts come the autumn, leaving you Lady Malfoy alone at home whenever Lord Malfoy is away. I have a proposition that will leave us both happy.”

“And what do you propose?” Lucius was suspicious, narrowing his eyes and trying to read him.

“I need Hadrian tutored in deportment. I believe that Narcissa would be an excellent example for him. It is clear that you have no issues with him, and Lord Pollux recommended you.” Narcissa and Lucius were considering it at least. Both were mentally reviewing the wording. Perhaps something to gain their attention. “You would of course be compensated for your time.”

“Compensated how?” There. He had him.  
“I'm sure we can work something out. Shall we just say… Lord Potter will owe Lord Malfoy a favour.”  
“So I will be going into the service of another house, on the promise of a favour?” Narcissa voiced her opinion. Eric knew how that sounded. Perhaps one last push.  
“We could of course provide monetary compensation. But I think we both know that there are more valuable things. And Hadrian may surprise you. He is more than he seems.” The silent conversation between the two made the acceptance pretty much said.  
“Indeed. A favour of anything from Lord Potter?” Lucius hedged.  
“Within reason of course.” Edric smirked over his firewhisky.

* * *

 

Hadrian and Draco had bounded up the steps; desperate to get away from the suffocating propriety that dinner demanded. Once inside the room, Hadrian sat himself on his bed, carefully crossing his legs. He observed Draco, watching him carefully for any signs that he was bored or just disliked Hadrian. He had never had a friend before and he didn’t want to mess this up. Draco was tall and lithe for his age, definitely taller than Hadrian. His white hair carefully combed and meticulously cared for. He was someone who understood the need for perfection that Edric had tried to drill into his head. Hadrian knew that his guardian was trying to protect and teach him, but he knew how difficult perfection was to achieve even before his life in Blackwell Hall. The Dursleys had tried to make him perfect, but he was impossible to be fixed.

Draco, however, seemed to have been gifted with pure perfection.

“Why didn’t you live with Lord Blackwell before now?” Draco asked suddenly, pausing in his own inspection of the new heir.  
“I was with my relatives. They hated me though. Lord Blackwell found me and saved me.” Draco nodded, then smiled a little.  
“I always wanted a friend who wasn’t one of my families patrons, or were just trying to get closer to the Malfoy influence. My father says I don’t need friends, but I really want one.” Draco looked very insecure, his feet shuffling against the carpet and his hand twisting themselves into knots.  
“I’ve never had a friend before.” Hadrian offered, giving a shy smile to the other boy. Draco smiled widely, barely bothering to hide his excitement. He knew his father had wanted him to keep to the Malfoy ideals at all times, but having a friend who genuinely liked him was a new and exciting experience.

The two spoke animatedly, discussing their mutual lessons and Harry trying not to feel like he was being left behind when Draco described his own lessons on politics and being an heir.

“But what is Lord Black like? Mother hates talking about him. Refuses to speak of her cousins as well.”  
“Pollux is great. He’s my favourite tutor. But sometimes I fell like I’m not getting anywhere. Politics is difficult.”  
“Father always said that if something is too easy, I’m either doing it wrong or someone is tricking me.” They both shared a laugh, easily forgetting that they had only just met.

All too soon Mick popped into his room and announced that it was time for Draco to leave.

“I’m going to miss you at school. But I’ll write all the time and tell you all about it.” Hadrian only nodded and smiled sadly. A thrill of fear suddenly went through him. ‘What if Draco makes friends at Hogwarts and forgets me?’  
“You won’t forget me right?”  
“Of course not Hadrian. We’re best friends after all.”  
“Harry.” Hadrian interjected suddenly. He didn’t like Draco calling him by that formal name. “I want you to call me Harry. When it’s just us.”  
“Harry it is then.”

* * *

 

“I’m very proud of you Hadrian.” Edric had pulled him close, hugging him tightly, once the Malfoy’s had gone on their way. Hadrian blushed at the unexpected praise.

“Thank you.” He murmured, unsure what to do with the kind words.  
“Lady Malfoy has agreed to be your new tutor. She is to teach you deportment and etiquette. She taught Draco and has agreed to teach you.” Hadrian gave a small smile at the news. He liked Lady Malfoy. The woman had been kind to him, as not many women had been to him in the past. Plus Draco was his first friend and he would have hated it if he never saw him again. With Lady Malfoy as his teacher Draco would be able to visit often.

“It is my understanding that you have befriended heir Malfoy.”  
“Yes sir – Edric. Sorry.” Edric only smiled at his charges misstep. Yet another thing he would need to correct. Not that he minded Hadrian’s openness with his emotions, but he knew that he would need to learn how to mask his expressions. Something young Draco had already learned.

“Edric. I know you said I wouldn’t be going to Hogwarts this year, I was wondering why?” Ah. Here it was. The piece of parchment sitting innocently in his top desk drawer mentally made an appearance.  
“Hadrian. You know how you came to be my ward a little under two months ago. Remember how we took a trip to Diagon Alley?”

“Yes sir.” He would forgive that slip up for now. “There was a parchment you wouldn’t let me see. It had something to do with an inheritance.”

“Yes Hadrian. _Your_ inheritance, actually. That parchment had the names of your ancestors, telling me what I needed to know in order to raise you correctly. It turns out that a mistake was made on your birth certificate. There are things I need to tell you. Later. But in truth, you are actually one year too young for Hogwarts.” He allowed the boy to absorb that for a moment. He had always believed himself to be eleven, finding out your true age may have put him into a shock.

“I see. So I’m actually ten then?” Edric smiled at his ward, pleased that he was remaining composed at the reveal.  
“Yes. Creating the time for us to catch you up on what you need to know as heir of House Potter.”  
“Alright then. Can I go?” Once again he smiled and gave a slight nod. Hadrian began to head up the steps of the grand staircase when Edric suddenly felt a twist in his stomach, perhaps the stirrings of guilt for keeping the truth from his charge.  
“Hadrian.” He called, turning to meet his wards confused eyes. “You will be coming into a very special inheritance Hadrian. More special than you know. I need you to remember this.”  
“Yes sir.” Hadrian was more subdued with his answer, trying to figure out what his guardian was keeping from him.  
“Good boy. Off you go.” Edric stared after him long after the small boy had disappeared up the steps.

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The previous chapter has some changes to Harry’s parentage. Just in case you can’t go back or can’t remember what his parentage is, Harry’s parents are now Lord Consort Thaddeus Davenport nee Malfoy + Princess Madeleine Davenport (Deceased)


	4. A Year Of Change

Chapter Four: A Year of Change

 

Over the course of the year, Hadrian began to mature and come to grips with who he would be to the wizarding world, not only as Heir Potter, but also as the Boy-Who-Lived. Edric had explained to him that he stood, not only to inherit House Potter, but also Houses Black and Peverell, and a few other smaller Houses who had left everything to the saviour of the wizarding world. He would become one of the most, if not the most, influential Lord in Britain. He was beginning to understand what that meant. Despite the weight of his future hanging over him, Hadrian enjoyed his life with his tutors, guardian, and Draco. Despite his initial fears, Hadrian’s lessons with Narcissa were going very well. He was progressing quickly with all his tutors too, soaking up knowledge like a sponge.

Autumn faded to Winter, and slowly changes began to make themselves known in the Blackwell home. Edric stayed in his study for hours, and Hadrian would remain cooped up in his own study or the library. Hadrian was growing up quickly, losing his childish innocence faster than he would have. With the maturity, came the thirst to prove himself a worthy Lord of House Potter. He was desperate to move on to his practical lessons with Lord Black, and even more desperate for knowledge about Magic and what it could do. Lord Prince had commended him on his grasp on magic. He had even moved ahead of the first years, catching up with the second years. Lord Prince had declared him ready for the more advanced lessons. Legilimency and Occlumency.

But with the worsening weather and good news, came bad news. Pollux Black’s health was declining rapidly. He remained in the halls of the Black’s ancestral home of the Black Keep, on permanent Bed Rest until he either passed on, or recovered. Hadrian took his lessons at the bedside of his tutor, or simply spoke to him. In the Lord Black’s last few months Hadrian and the old lord grew closer than they had ever been. A kinship more than anything.

“I know I’m dying. I won’t make it another year, perhaps not even to see the spring.” Edric was sitting with Pollux, waiting for Hadrian to finish his personal work, homework really.  
“I am sorry to hear that.” And truly he was. Pollux only smiled briefly, barely having the energy to do more than give a slight upturn of his lips.

“You need to prepare Hadrian to take over the Black Lordship. He needs to finish his lessons with you now. He is ready to begin the practical applications of what he has learned.” His breath was wheezing and his energy was failing him, but Edric nodded and agreed to the old lord’s request. Lesson plans forming in his head already.

“Once I am gone my Will shall take effect. Giving Hadrian the Lordship immediately, with Lord Malfoy as his proxy. I have already discussed this with both him and his wife. They know the consequences should they try and steal the Lordship from my young student.” Edric gave a grimace. Line theft was more grievous when the rightful heir was aware of what had happened. Magic would condemn them with the loss of an heir, or curse them to never bare an heir for either house. Heirs were bound by blood to their houses, only able to lose their lordship by death or disgrace, as Sirius Black had.

“Does Hadrian know?”  
“He knows that I am leaving him my House. But he doesn’t know how soon that will be.” Edric could only nod. To be honest, neither of them knew how soon that would be. Lord Malfoy was already acting as Proxy of the Black Family, had been from the moment Pollux had taken sick. But by the healers expressions both Edric and Hadrian knew that the Lord Black was not long for this world.

* * *

Edric was stressing. Christmas was coming up and Hadrian had never had a gift before in his life. The usually calm and composed lord was frazzled and fraying around the edges, desperate to make Hadrian’s Christmas special. He had already invited Draco and his family to their first Yule Ball, as well as Lord Prince and his heir. The annual Potter Ball would need to be reintroduced with a bang this year. Many families had forgotten the power and influence the Potter Family wielded with the death of Fleamont and Euphemia Potter. James had never been the political sort, typically leaving important decisions to Edric. One would have thought a he had grown accustomed to governing the Potter Household while James was off gallivanting across England with his marauders. But he had sworn an oath never to abuse his position or to lead the Potter Holdings to ruin.

The Potter Ball would reaffirm his wards position in the wizarding world. This ball would be Hadrian’s first introduction to the Wizarding world as the Potter Heir, barely a year before he would take the Lordship. Most heirs were introduced in their toddler years, displaying that their family had a future. Hadrian had been lost before his presentation, leaving this ball as their only choice. Whispers had come to him, whispers of old families making moves towards the Potter Lordship. The most surprising being Lady Longbottom. Heir Longbottom – Neville – was already set up to gain what the Potters had lost the night Voldemort had attacked. All they needed was the Potter Heirs eleventh birthday to pass without a claim, or Hadrian They had already given the latter up as impossible, The Dowager Lady Longbottom was now sitting in wait to become Proxy for House Potter in place of her grandson. They needed to present Hadrian as soon as possible.

He fingered to parchment in his hands.

Of course, presenting Hadrian to the wizarding world now created another dilemma. Hadrian would be expected to make his appearance on behalf of the House Potter, as well as every other House that they were expecting to claim. He would be expected to present as Crown Prince Hadrian James Alexander Davenport-Potter. This could work in their favour, making a play for the crown now while Hadrian was still young. But more than that, it could work against them. They could be proclaimed Blood-Traitors, Usurpers, and be thrown out of pureblood circles. Pureblood’s took their monarchy seriously. Disrespect for the King or Queen of any generation was looked upon is the highest disgrace. Declaring a play for the crown now could strengthen their position. But the choice was not his to make. And with Yule barely two weeks away, a decision had to be made.

“Mick.” The house elf appeared with a low bow. “Please inform Hadrian that I am waiting for him in the sitting room. Please tell him that this is urgent.” Mick gave a bow and disappeared with a snap of his fingers. Moments later Hadrian pushed his way into the sitting room. He was a far cry from the abused boy Edric had taken from the muggles. He looked the part of the prince he was, and Narcissa’s lessons were paying off. He was still terribly polite and difficult to bring out of his shell, but he had managed well enough. Hadrian would make a wonderful Lord and an even greater King. With some work of course.

“You called for me Edric?”

“Yes. Sit. Please.” He waited as the boy sat, his child’s mind trying to figure out if he were in trouble or not. The neglected child trying to think of what he could do to please his guardian in order to remain with him.  
“You are not in trouble Hadrian. I just have something that we must discuss before your presentation at the Yule Ball.” Hadrian nodded, relaxing in his chair. “As you know you are in line to claim both the Potter and Black Lordships. But there is so much more at stake here. Hadrian… your parents loved you very much, they died for you.”

“I know Edric. You’ve told me many times.”

“Hadrian, Lilly and James Potter were not your birth parents.” Edric passed the parchment to his ward, hoping that this would not break the young man. He watched as Hadrian opened the parchment containing the truth about his inheritance. Watched as he read the contents of the parchment in disbelief, turning his betrayed eyes to Edric.

“What?”  
“It is the truth, my prince.”

“No! That is not me! My name is Harry Potter. I am the son of James and Lilly Potter. My parents died for me. They fought against Voldemort and Voldemort killed them. I’m not some missing prince.”

“What have I taught you Hadrian, about duty? Have I been so poor a guardian that you would disregard my teachings at the slightest bit of difficulty?” Hadrian was pale and his hands trembled. But his eyes were determined.

“I’m not a prince.” He whispered, still denying his heritage. Trying to push back the inevitable.  
“You are. However, if you feel you cannot do this… then I shall have that parchment burned and you will go back to being Harry Potter.”  
“I can go back to being Just Harry?” He was desperate to be normal, despite everything that made him otherwise.

“Yes. But I urge you to think on this. There is no need to decide immediately.” Edric practically begged, sitting forward in his seat and taking Hadrian’s hand in his.

“But I don’t want to be the prince. I don’t want to be a king! I can’t be. I’m just… Just Harry.” Hadrian’s tears spilled down his cheeks. He would never be just Harry ever again. Even if he had remained with his muggle caretakers he would still have been The Boy-Who-Lived. His defeat of Voldemort had made that irrefutable. Since he had been a year old, Just Harry was impossible.

“Hadrian… I know you want to be ‘Just Harry’, but even that was made impossible with the deaths of Lilly and James. I… I beg you to consider this.” He sat back in his seat, looking at his charge with something akin to desperation.

Hadrian dried his tears and looked at his guardian. His green eyes looked like they were seeing into Edric’s soul. He had never steered the young heir down a bad road before, and his hands had always been gentle whenever punishing or teaching him.  
“I can think about it… right?” He asked carefully, gauging his guardian’s reaction. Edric only gave a small smile and a nod.

“Of course you can.”

* * *

And so Hadrian did think on the subject of him being a King one day. His mind was whirring the idea’s and possibilities that would be open to him should he accept his birthright. That, and the knowledge that he would truly be himself, the boy his mother had given life to and the blood his father had passed down. But he also considered the responsibility that being a king came with. His time would be eaten away by policy and governing, leaving little time for friends and studying. He would not only be governing a House and it’s many vassals, but an entire kingdom with political manoeuvres and power hungry politicians or radicalists. Voldemort wasn’t the first who wanted to rule the magical world, and he wouldn’t be the last. The thought of the vast responsibility scared Hadrian more than he cared to admit it.

His inheritance was on his mind between his studies and his meals, his morning and evening routines, and his sleeping and waking hours. Even Drummond Prince had seen the effects the new knowledge was having on the boy. Especially when he almost spilt unicorn blood into a highly explosive potion during the early stages.

“Watch what you are doing! Fool of a boy!” He roared, grabbing the slender wrist in a tight grip. The vial of unicorn’s blood fell onto the table, spilling over the desktop. Hadrian only let out a terrified whimper. Years of ingrained instincts warning him of the potential beating.

“I’m sorry! I didn't mean to!” He cried out, trying desperately to reclaim his wrist. Drummond released him instantly and vanished the mess with a swipe of his wand.  
“That is enough for today. You are in no position to be practicing dangerous magic when your head is halfway to the moon.” Hadrian cringed. His tutor was right. “Instead you will go into the study room and wait for me to join you. I will not waste a perfectly good potion base just because you are not up to it.” Hadrian bowed slightly and scurried from the room to follow the Prince Lord’s orders. Drummond’s grumblings followed him out.

Moments later, Drummond entered the study room. His face once again pulled into a tight blank mask. Hadrian stood to apologize once more, but the Lord merely held up his hand and gestured for him to sit. They both sat in the quiet for a moment. Hadrian in a slight fear of retribution for the wasted materials, and Drummond in a thoughtful daze of how to breach the subject of Hadrian’s distraction.

“May I ask why you decided to waste precious ingredients when you were not one-hundred percent sure you could focus on the task?” Hadrian merely ducked his head in shame, and hope that Drummond would be merciful in his chosen punishment. After seconds of no answer, Drummond merely hummed and examined the boy sitting before him. Finally Hadrian lifted his head and Drummond knew the reason for his student’s turmoil.

“Lord Blackwell told you.” It wasn’t a question at all. Just a statement that Hadrian wished had been kept inside his tutor’s head. He knew he couldn’t not reply again, but his throat felt raw and a lump had formed, blocking any efforts to speak. He nodded. “I see. And your thoughts on this?”

“I… I don’t know what I should do.” Hadrian looked uncomfortably small and vulnerable, sitting hunched over in his seat.

“Sit up. You look absolutely pathetic curling in on yourself like a kicked dog. Neither Lord Blackwell nor I taught you to behave like this. You cannot be weak whenever life gets difficult or a situation isn’t what you wanted! Sit up and act like the Lord we raised you to be.” Hadrian snapped back like he had been struck, but he too realized that he had been behaving abominably. He had been pouting really, over not getting his own way. His reasons weren’t really good enough to turn away his birthright. He sat up and looked Lord Prince straight in they eye. His posture perfect and his gaze strong, despite the anxiety he was feeling.

“Good. Now that that has been settled, why do you hesitate with claiming your lordship?” The question wasn’t only a question for Hadrian. It was a demand that his reasons had better be good reasons. Drummond hated excuses and would not tolerate them for anything, no matter whose business it was he interfered with.

“I don’t know if I could really be a king that this world wants. I don’t think I would be very good at it. You trained me to be a lord of a house, not a king.” Hadrian grimaced at his own reasons. They sounded weak and pathetic even to his own ears.

“Hmph. Of course you won’t be a good king. You’re ten. And being a king is no different than being a lord. You still have to deal with uppity lords, a demanding public, a ministry that is utterly out of control, and the people that always think they can do better (“Which they can’t of course.” Was let unsaid). You will learn and you will grow into a King just as you will a Lord. The only key difference being that these will be dealt with on a worldwide scale.” The aging Lord Prince merely looked at the ten year old with a deadpan expression, giving nothing away. Hadrian felt foolish for worrying so much. Drummond was right. He was only ten. He wouldn’t even become a lord until he was seventeen, and a king until he was twenty if the history books were to be believed. He had time to learn and grow into his own.

“You still hesitate.”  
“I only have six years to learn everything I need to.” Had Drummond been a lesser man he would have laughed at the stricken expression on his students face. He was not, however, a lesser man.  
“Then you had better start listening to me when I lecture you.” And just like that the tension was filtered out of the room.

* * *

Pollux sat upright in his bed, thinking. Crown Prince Hadrian James Alexander Davenport-Potter-Malfoy, Duke Gryffindor-Slytherin-Peverell, Lord Ballard-Savage-Rios-Black was the topic of his thoughts. Pollux had never experienced the Wizarding Monarchy himself, but his grandfather had been born around the last few years of the monarchy. The wizarding world had been without a King for nearly two hundred years now, and Pollux could only sneer at the state of it. No progress had been made since the Ministry of Magic had seized power in the months between the death of Alexander Davenport and the birth of Brendan Devanport. Brendan had been King in name only once he had reached his majority. He had barely bothered to be crowned at all. Alexander had been the last _King_ of Wizarding Britain, all those after him and merely been figureheads to keep the purebloods happy and held no real power – much like the muggles in that regard. The last one to have the potential to follow in the footsteps of Alexander was King Rupert, but even he had been kept from reaching the height of his power. 

The facts had been greatly twisted since the death, and possible murder of Alexander. Most purebloods were taught that the crown willingly handed over power during the 1920’s, that they had feared Grindlewald enough to cower from him and remove themselves from responsibility. Only those who had ever held relation to the crown knew the truth (though Pollux very much doubted young Lucius Malfoy knew, Abraxes had died before he could pass on the history of the crown and his wife was a spiteful witch with power in the ministry). The crown would lose its power, its magic, if they ever refused to help their people during a time of need. The ministry had prevented the Great Kings from reappearing with the deaths of King Rupert and his wife. But now, Hadrian Potter, born only a prince, was now inheriting titles that had helped keep the Ministry in power for the years after the monarchy.

But Pollux was not only thinking of the young Prince. He was also thinking of his own great grandson. Sirius Black was the last male Black by blood. It was a disgrace to have him in Azkaban. There was little he could do about Bellatrix and her husband, nor could he do anything about Regulus, being dead and all, but perhaps he could do something about Sirius. Walburga had been mad, but she had never been stupid. Sirius had been reckless and immature, but he had also been the only replacement if anything were to ever happen to Regulus. His face may have been gauged from the family tapestry, but Sirius Black had never been officially disinherited. It was for this reason, Pollux had begun investigations on the crime his grandson was imprisoned for, and had begun to make preparations to hold a trial for Sirius and hopefully, have him exonerated. Pollux knew he would never live to see his grandson freed, but he knew that his family name was going to a strong young man with a good head for politics and enough power to make a difference.

King or not Hadrian would hold the most power politically and publically to bring back the monarchy singlehandedly. Especially since Edric Blackwell had been making alliances and calling in old debts.

And Pollux was glad, that in his last days, he had known Hadrian Potter-Davenport

* * *

 Lucius Malfoy knew that Edric Blackwell was hiding something from him. He had allowed his wife to be reduced to a tutor of a young lord because he wanted to know that secret. Unfortunately that Potter Steward was unexpectedly tight lipped around both Narcissa and himself. Even Draco, merlin bless him, didn't know the secret. Whatever it was that Edric Blackwell was hiding would come out in due time and Lord Malfoy was determined that his house would profit from it. Which was the only reason he was sitting opposite Sirius Black in an Azkaban visitation room. Pollux had been very clear, despite his harsh breathing and wheezing voice, that Sirius Black was to be publically investigated and Lord Malfoy, as the Black Proxy, would have to be the one to make it happen.

Black looked as anyone would expect, having spent almost ten years in Azkaban. His eyes were sunken and his face was almost pasty. He looked sick both physically and mentally. But he didn’t look mad. And that, he supposed, was as much of a victory as hey would get today.

“Malfoy.” Even looking weak and half dead, Black still managed to spit out his name like it was a curse.

“Black.” Lucius replied mildly, trying to keep a calm temper.  
“Why are you here?”  
“I have come to inquire as to your situation in Azkaban, to see if you meet certain satisfactory requirements.” Black let out a harsh laugh that was more of a bark than anything.

“You? Come to see if my ‘situation is satisfactory’? Please. You’ve come to gloat.” Black’s face had twisted into an ugly snarl, a mad glint appearing in his eyes that was too reminiscent of Bellatrix when she was caught in the bloodlust of a battle. A thrill of fear went down his spine. Perhaps he wasn’t as sane as the warden had believed and would be better off in Azkaban after all. But needs must.

“Now dear cousin Sirius, is that any way to speak to the man who is trying to have you exonerated?” Lucius allowed a bit of a smirk then. It really was satisfying that Perfect, Poster Boy, Sirius Black was sitting opposite him, dressed in the Azkaban prison robes even after all the attempts to drag the Malfoy name through the dirt.

“Ex… what?” Black looked temporarily stunned, his eyes suddenly shining with something like hope, before hatred took over. “You think I’m stupid Malfoy? You’re not getting a life debt out of me! I won’t betray my family!”  
“Oh you mistake me. I’m not the one trying to exonerate you. I am simply acting as Proxy for the House of Black until either the current head recovers or passes on. It is your family that is trying to get you a fair trial. And your godson… who will take on the title Lord Black once dear Pollux has passed on.”

“Harry?” Black paled at the mention of his blood family, but the mention of his godson brought such a change over him that even his voice became a raspy whimper.  
“I believe he prefers Hadrian now.”  
“You’ve seen him? Spoken to him?”  
“Very briefly, but yes. Edric Blackwell is doing a wonderful job raising him. He will be a proper pureblood Lord by the time he has graduated Hogwarts. Or wherever Edric chooses to send him.”  
“Eddie’s raising him? Harry’s safe?”  
“Yes Black. Do try and keep up will you.”  
“He has to go to Hogwarts! Potter’s have always gone to Hogwarts! James already paid his tuition, had him down the moment he was born.” Black was absorbed in his own, remaining few, happy memories of his time at Hogwarts. Lucius took that moment to really review his latest project’s words. The Sirius Black he remembered had never had the tact that his brother had, nor the subtlety that he should have had.

“Well. I believe I have found my answers as to your conditions. We won’t be seeing each other again unless your case goes to trial.” Lucius stood, breaking Black from the fog of memories he had been overcome with.

“Wait. Malfoy. Is he happy?” It didn’t take a legilimence to know whom Black was speaking of. The only thing he truly seemed to care about.  
“He is now.” And with that he left. He didn’t need to see Black’s sagging and pathetic face at the hints that had given him.

Though he had gleaned very little in terms of secrets, Lucius knew that Black was innocent and would undoubtedly do very well if his case went to trial. But unfortunately the current political climate was one that demanded they move on and forget that the Wizarding War had never happened. Fudge may be in his pocket, but even he didn’t like pulling out past records and exonerating prisoners his predecessor had put away. Fudge liked to keep himself in good public view, and exonerating Sirius Black – the murderer and traitor – was nothing short of political suicide. Fudge wouldn’t do anything to help. He would in fact more likely hinder their investigation.

However… there was someone that enjoyed seeing justice done. While that route had never helped him in the past, this time it might be the exception to the rule he had always followed: “Never engage a worker of the ministry unless you are entirely sure they are in your pocket.”

‘I am not going to like this.’ Was his first thought, quickly followed by: ‘but She will.’

* * *

Edric was consumed in thought. The mystery of how Hadrian had ended up in the hands of Lilly Potter instead of the natural Davenport Steward (the honourable Lord James Arlington, deceased as of January 4th 1985 with no heirs to his name - leaving the position as steward of the Davenport Household open) was beyond him. Something was going on behind closed doors, and Edric needed to find out what. The death of Thaddeus Malfoy had been hushed up under mysterious circumstances, an auror raid on his household resulted in a curse going stray, killing the Malfoy Lord almost instantly. Lucius had been furious at his older brothers death, and an investigation had been launched with no results. No one had ever been charged with the murder and the wand of Thaddeus Malfoy had never been released to the grieving family. Princess Madeleine’s death had been kept silent as well. Not only had a funeral for the dead princess never been hosted, but most outside of the pureblood circle and the Lords of great houses didn't even know she had passed, or even lived. The princess had lived and died unknown, despite her royal heritage.

Because of the early an unexpected death of King Brendan Davenport the ministry of magic had taken over as head of state until the new heir to the throne was born. Princess Madeleine, as a woman, was unfit to inherit the throne (an old law and tradition that had never been revoked or challenged – much unlike their muggle counterparts). The ministry was only supposed to take power when the monarchy was unable to, like when a proper heir was nonexistent or when a king was either too young or too old to rule with confidence.

With some digging, Edric had managed to find out who the ruling minister was at the time of the King’s death and the princesses subsequent exile. Ignatius Tuft had just been forced from his office due to his change in the management and breeding of dementors, and Nobby Leach – the first and only muggle-born minister for magic – had just been elected when King Brendan had passed, leaving his ten year old daughter alone and unable to take up a position as anything but a princess for the people to look at and admire. The next twenty years were passed under the governing of Eugenia Jenkins, Harold Minchum, and the beginning of Millicent Bagnold while young Madeleine was educated and overlooked. She had married Thaddeus Malfoy two years into Voldemort’s war and fallen pregnant during an election year. She had died only three months before Fudge took office, leaving her son an orphan and an unknown in the vastness of the wizarding world.

Despite the gloomy subject matter, Edric couldn’t help but be impressed with how clean everything looked from a criminal standpoint. No rock had been left out of place and there wasn’t a paper trail to speak of. For all intents and purposes, Lilly Potter had given birth to Harry Potter of July 31st 1980 and Hadrian Davenport had never existed. Someone was playing with the wizarding world, changing the most respected and upheld traditions in their culture for their own personal gain. And Edric knew that a certain twinkly eyes headmaster probably had a hand in it.

**TBC**


	5. The Changing of The Guard

Chapter Five – The Changing of the Guard

Yuletide found Hadrian in his rooms, standing before his mirror as he tried to tie a tie. Despite all the skills he had learned, this was not one of them. He was positively hopeless at it. In truth, however, he was hoping to delay his appearance at the party. Edric had informed him of what this would mean for him as the last remaining Potter.

_“Most pureblooded children are presented before an audience of their peers, announcing that they are the future of their house. An heir. The only true heir. Very rarely will a pureblood not present their child to the rest of the aristocracy, but even that is mostly because there is doubt to the child’s capabilities, or there is another agreed upon heir that does not come from the direct line. Most often because the eldest is a female.” Edric explained, watching Hadrian intensely. This lesson had been about his upcoming presentation. The social event that would secure his position in their world._

_“But what about me? Why do I need to be presented?” Hadrian was confused. He wasn’t a pureblood. James – his father – was, but due to his marriage of Lily Evans Hadrian was not. So why would he need to be presented?_

_“James did intend on presenting you as his heir on your second birthday. However, circumstances have made that impossible. The reason we must present you is because there is currently a vacant spot in polite society. The position as Heir Potter.”_

_“I don’t understand. I am Heir Potter. Potter Blood is in me. You’ve said this enough times.”_

_“Yes. You may have Potter Blood in you. But you have not been presented as the official heir. While this is really only politics and pureblood tradition, there is no official Heir to the House of Potter. That means that others can try and claim it. They just have to make it past your eleventh birthday and the six month limbo period with no presentation.” Edric calmly explained._

_“So someone else could claim my birthright?”_

_“Exactly.”_

_“Six month limbo period?”_

_“Yes. Six months of respect for either the passing of a great House to a lower House, or respect for the parents of a possible heir. Usually used when a House is either expecting a second heir or no direct descendant can be found. We will be using it as a six month waiting period, under the assumption that you had just been found or were simply not ready.”_

That particular lesson had left him with concerns over his position in court, not only as the Potter heir, but also as the presumed crown prince. He was hoping to avoid the celebration entirely, but Edric had made his position very clear. He would be presented tonight. But he had to give his answer as well. Would he be merely Lord Potter or would he be Crown Prince Hadrian Alexander Davenport-Potter.

Ever since his conversation with Lord Prince, Hadrian had been less hesitant to turn down his title. He still had doubts and fears about taking on the responsibility of a country on top of the duties being a Lord would entail. But Edric needed to know, so that he could make last minute changes to the agenda for the night.

“Master Hadrian, Master Edric is asking me to inform you that time is up sir.” Mick, popping in nearly silently and scaring Hadrian out of his mind, relayed the message his guardian had given him. So the time had come to make a decision that would very well affect the rest of his life.

“Thank you Mick.” Hadrian turned and made his way towards the hall, prepared to give his answer to Edric. He paused like he had forgotten something, and looked in the mirror one last time. With his appearance checked and seeming to be in good taste, he exited the room.

* * *

 

Lucius stood beside Minister Fudge, Narcissa on his arm and Draco standing beside young Daphne Greengrass. Despite the inane chatter of the politicians and simpering fools Lucius remained focused on the staircase, trying to keep the entrance of the steward and lord of House Potter in sight. He managed to catch the glimmer of green as the floo faded into ash and Severus Snape stepped out. They had been friends since Hogwarts and Lucius found the man’s sense of humour quite satisfying. Though he was glad to see the one man he could call Friend, he couldn’t help but wonder why Edric Blackwell had invited the long time enemy of James Potter. It couldn’t be due to family relations or even because of the man’s friendship with Lily Evans as Edric’s primary duty was to protect the interests of House Potter to the best of his abilities. Severus Snape stood opposed to everything House Potter stood for.

“Severus? What are you doing here?” Narcissa reached out to their son’s godfather, bringing him into the small semicircle the three families had created. The Potions Master acquiesced to the Lady’s silent to invitation, joining them in their huddle of friends.  
“I received an invitation, same as you.” He displayed the beautifully embossed invitation; complete with his name and titles – Potions Master Severus T. Snape, Heir of the Prince Estate and Lordships – for Lucius to see.  
“I find it very impressive Severus that you came to see Hadrian Potter take on his Lordships.” Narcissa put in.  
“Titles? I was only aware of the Potter Lordship. And I am really only here because my Lord practically ordered me to be.” Severus confessed, slipping a smaller, less spectacular note into his friends hands.

“It appears that Sirius Black left Hadrian everything in the event of his death or inability to take the lordships. His imprisonment effectively leaves everything to Heir Potter. Lord Black supports this claim and will be passing the lordship on to young Heir Potter when he passes.” Lucius relayed as he looked over the note. It did indeed practically order Severus here, under threat of disownment and being cut off from the Prince Estate Potions Labs. Lucius couldn’t help the slight smirk that threatened to show itself. Severus looked positively apoplectic with the knowledge that Hadrian Potter would be a lord twice over at the age of eleven.  
“You’ve been keeping secrets Lucius.” That emotionless silky voice sent a shudder of slight fear down the Malfoy Lords spine. He hated how Severus could do that to him, a grown man and Lord of a Noble House. His displeasure must have been apparent because Severus gave him a smirk.

“Boys. Play nice.” Narcissa admonished, but her amusement was not lost on her husband or his friend.  
“Of course dearest.” Lucius gave a rare smile to his wife. He was happy with how things were turning around for them. Narcissa had spoken of her joy in teaching Hadrian Potter, as she had been overjoyed to teach Draco when he became old enough.

“Indeed, you have been keeping secrets Lucius.” Fudge, quite forgotten, announced himself, trying to remain a firm presence in the small circle.  
“Minister Fudge, I do believe that my personal affairs had nothing to do with the Ministry, or you, our esteemed Minister.” Fudge blustered at the blatant refusal to announce his secrets, but puffed up at the compliment that disguised an insult. Fudge was a fool. He had only become Minister for Magic because of the reputations of his endorsers. He had little to no power without his political titles. When Heir Potter-Black finally claimed his Lordships, there would be a shift in power. One that could reinstate the power of the Lords in their own courts.

The ministry of magic was a puppet government. It ruled at the behest of the Noble Lords of Britain, which in turn were ruled by their Monarch. During the rise of Grindlewald however, the crown had taken a step back from ruling directly, preferring to allow the Lords and their ministry to take a more steadfast approach to the defeat of the Dark Lord, as well as bring a swift end to the first world war. And then the Great Accident had happened. During the commonwealth tour of 1923, a mad wizard (a muggleborn no-less) damaged by the war and feeling angry at the crown, had fired four reducto’s at their carriage during a visit to Hogsmead. The spell killed two members of the King’s privy council, crippled the crown prince (only a baby at the time), fatally wounded the Princess Consort, and forced the second child of Princess Consort Karina Pajari of Russia to be forcefully born, pulled from his mothers womb in the early minutes after her death. King Rupert Davenport had been devastated, left to raise his crippled heir and premature son alone. He had withdrawn the monarchy from the public eye, refusing to make another commonwealth tour or any public appearances. The Crown allowed the House of Lords to handle domestic affairs, and the ministry to handle the common people.

The Wizard who had committed the act of treason was given the dementors kiss and his family was publically exiled to the muggle world, their memories of the wizarding world wiped, and their magic bound. The most severe punishment they had ever meted out. Lucius’ grandfather, Septimus Malfoy, had headed the cry for the traitor’s punishment and his family’s banishment; the Malfoy family had lost more than just a Queen the day of the attack. Magnus Lucius Malfoy, Septimus’ brother, had served on the Privy Council and had been murdered while protecting his King and Queen. His body had been scattered and never fully recovered for a proper funeral. Years later the debt of gratitude would be paid through the marriage of Thaddeus Malfoy to Princess Madeleine. Nobody knew what happened to the pregnant Princess after the fall of Voldemort, but no tale of a royal birth had ever been released. It was likely that she and her child had been killed in the escalated attacks. Leaving Britain without a Monarch. And leaving the House of Lords without supervision.

There would be a shift in power with the claiming of the Potter and Black Lordships. A shift that would bring power back to those who had always held it.

* * *

 

“Have you made your decision?” Edric had almost pounced on Hadrian when he arrived downstairs, looking every inch the Young Lord. He was growing concerned. Hadrian hadn’t voiced an opinion before today, and Edric had no idea where his mind was.

“I… I don’t know.” Hadrian looked pale and almost sweaty. He was nervous. And that nervousness caused something within Edric to surge to the surface of his thoughts. ‘He needs reassurance.’ So Edric took Hadrian’s hands and brought him close, enveloping the ten year old in a tight hug.

“Whatever happens tonight, whatever you decide, I will always be proud of you.” Edric spoke from his heart, trying to convey with his words and his embrace just how much he cared about the boy before him. “I loved James like a brother, and even though you are not his son by blood, you are his son by choice. He loved you, even without knowing who you were and where you came from, he loved you. And he left you in my care, or he was supposed to have, and I could never let him down by refusing you the right to choose your life. You are my ward, and that will only change the day you become seventeen, or take up the crown. But whatever you choose, I will be proud.” Hadrian squeezed him tighter. He was calmer now. The slight trembles had stopped. And when he emerged from Edric’s chest, he was smiling. It was the truest smile that Edric had ever seen from his ward. And he knew that no matter what Hadrian did, he would raise him to be the man James would have wanted his son to be.

“Thank You.” And Edric couldn’t help but see a Prince in the face of Hadrian Potter.

“Have you come to a decision?” He asked, gentler this time.

“I will be taking on all my titles and inheritances, however… I would like to have a say in how my future is handled. I want to be able to rule and make necessary changes to the way the world is run, not just be a figurehead for people to use in order to further themselves.” Had he ever given Hadrian the impression that he was using him for power or influence? Then, like he had read his stewards mind, Hadrian spoke up;

“I know that you have always had my best interests Edric, but you cannot guarantee that every Lord will be as great a help as you have been. Which is why I am asking that I have a say in who serves in my household, who is a part of my council, and who serves as my proxy’s. But most importantly, I ask that you serve as my private secretary.” Hadrian looked every bit the King that Edric knew he could be. He was strong and confident in every way. But behind even that, Edric could see the nervousness and apprehension that came with the confidence. Hadrian was still afraid that he would be rejected.

“I would be honoured to serve you in this way, your grace.” Edric gave a low bow, as was befitting a minor lord before his King. Hadrian may have come to him frightened and scarred, but he stood taller now than ever before.

“Edric…” Hadrian began his nervousness barely reigned in.

“Yes my lord?”

“Really… Thank you.”

With one last bow to his monarch, Edric left the hall to welcome his guests and begin the presentation ceremony.

* * *

 

“It is with great privilege that I have been called upon to make this announcement. And with great honour that I stand before you today to welcome a Lord that I have come to respect, and a young man who has exceeded all expectations since the moment of his birth. Lords and Ladies, young heirs alike, Lord Edric Blackwell, Steward of House Potter.” Drummond Prince’s announcement was a surprise to those who knew the Lord Prince and his heir, and even more of a surprise to those who didn't. Lord Prince was known as something of a recluse, keeping to himself and rarely concerning himself with the affairs that weren’t inside his own House’s dominion. And almost everyone knew that the lord’s sole heir, Severus Snape, thought the political maneuvering and public appearances to be beneath him. And nobody could criticize. The Prince family may not hold the same fear and respect that Houses Malfoy and Black did, but nobody would dare cross Lord Prince in a public or political engagement. What said House was doing here, however, threw most everyone. Lord Prince was no friend of House Potter, and his heir was known to openly despise them.

But despite the mere presences of both Prince Lord and Heir, no one was expecting Lord Edric Blackwell to be the host of the prestigious party held in the Potter Name. Yuletide was something the Potter family had discarded with the birth of James Potter, something that had driven a wedge between them and many of the other pureblooded families.

Edric Blackwell, a minor Lord whose only claim to nobility was through the backing of House Potter, was dressed for the occasion. His robes were black, with simple, deep red brocade. His house crest was embroidered below the Potter Crest on his breast pocket, and his waistcoat was faint golden colour. A small watch fob looped elegantly across the front of the waistcoat to the front pocket where his own family heirloom was concealed.

Many young witches stared at the man with a thinly veiled lust, wanting nothing more than to be the companion of such a man. Lords were reluctantly impressed and politically important figures were looking for ways to gain access to the wasted Potter Fortunes. Other Stewards to other Houses gave him a slight nod of appreciation. For a simple steward he had grown in fortunes since his Family had been murdered, and the heir currently missing.

Edric greeted the room with a smile.

“Lords and Ladies. Stewards and Politicians. Heirs and Heiresses. I welcome you to my home, in the name of my mother House, House Potter. I wish that I could leave this formality of greeting and welcoming you all to my dear friends, James Potter and his wife Lily, but I am afraid that with his death this duty passes to me. I have felt the strain of responsibility to locate and raise the only heir to the Potter Family, regardless of his blood.” A few hopefuls began to dream of their son or daughter becoming the heir to the Potter fortunes. Dowager Longbottom looked particularly sure of herself.

“And it is my great pleasure to be here before you on the eve of Yuletide to present the future of House Potter. It has been a difficult eight years full of uncertainty. But I am pleased to know that House Potter will be going into capable hands. Hands that will influence our lives from today onwards. Lords and Ladies, I present to you today, Hadrian James Alexander Davenport-Potter, Heir to the Dukedoms of Gryffindor, Slytherin, and Peverell, Heir of House Black, Ballard, Savage, and Rios, Crown Prince to the Empire of Avalon, Lord Protector of Wizarding Britain and all her dominions, and Monarch to all peoples under the Avalonian Throne.”

The doors that stood at the top of the dais opened, revealing Hadrian in all his glory. The guests in attendance let out a gasp at the strength of wild magic that collected in the room as the young heir entered. Magic herself claimed him as her Chosen, making his claim of royal blood indisputable.

Like a wave, the guests all lowered themselves to their knees in supplication to their Prince.

* * *

 

Hadrian had known that his re-entry into the wizarding world would be dramatic, but he hadn’t expected what his claim, as Crown Prince would mean both to him and his people. Even as he stepped forward into the ballroom, he could feel the magic in the air, it danced over his skin and burned in his blood.

He stood before his guests, kneeling in supplication to him of all people. He had been prepared for hysterics and people shouting for his blood, but not for instant recognition of his status. So he stood before his new subjects, completely unsure of himself and riddled with anxiety. Seconds were passing in reverent silence and he had never felt so alone.

 _‘This is what being a King is. Isolation. But the power to make a difference.’_ And with that knowledge, Hadrian took his first step forwards as Crown Prince of a Nation that had been ignorant of his very existence.

“You may rise.” And the people obeyed. Powerful Lords and Ladies, political figures, and even men with power inside the ministry obeyed his words and rose to their feet. There was a second calm. People were taking in the sight of him, the last of the royal family.

“I stand before you, esteemed Lord and Ladies of our community, a boy with a legacy longer than many of your robes.” That gained him a small chuckle, “However, I also stand before you with the knowledge of my ancestry and my birthright in this community. My only hope is that you and I can work together to end this age of stagnation, and bring in a new golden age. I cannot promise that I will be faultless, but I can promise that all I do will be for the benefit of our world. I am honoured to stand before you and welcome you to my Yuletide Celebration. Merry Met.” The guests in attendance all raised their glasses in toast to Hadrian Davenport-Potter, King of Avalon.

 _“Merry Met.”_

* * *

 

Edric could say with complete honesty that Hadrian had made him immensely proud. The boy he had removed from the muggles was a far cry from the young prince standing before him today. There were still miles to go before the preparation was finished and all the wounds had healed, but Hadrian stood strong before his people.

The rest of the party went smoothly, with Edric guiding Hadrian to meet with the members of the Wizengamot and enjoy a quick conversation before leading him away and on to another conversation. But despite the constant maneuvering, Edric kept an eye out for the flash of poorly matched robes that signaled the arrival of Albus Dumbledore.

“Lucius, how wonderful of you to come.” Edric guided his ward closer to the Malfoy Lord.

“Indeed. May I introduce you to my dear friend, Severus Snape.” Lucius dragged the rather sulky body of Severus Snape towards the pair. He was exceedingly tall and his formal black robes swirled around him as he moved. Edric could see the resemblance to Lord Drumond Prince in his stern expression and strong nose.

“Potions Master Snape.” Hadrian separated himself rom Edric’s side and gave the man a formal bow, not low enough to signal a higher status, but enough to show his respect. “I am very impressed with your work on the Wolfsbane and Veritaserum Potions. I look forward to your next publication.”

Severus looked astounded. His eyes betrayed his shock, but years of occlumency managed to rein his shock in. This Potter was nothing at all like he had expected – but he wasn’t a Potter now was he, and didn’t that just rub him the wrong way.

“Thank you, you’re highness. I am glad you find my work so enthralling.” It could have been considered a sarcastic remark, but Edric knew the man found it difficult to be addressing a child as a superior. Not even the Heir Malfoy had that privilege.

“I hope to read further publications, or proposals.” Edric was happy to allow Hadrian to make his acquaintance with the Potions Master while he turned to Lord Malfoy.

“You’ve been keeping secrets Lord Blackwell. I find it very astonishing that you managed it, keeping him a secret. I would have expected you to announce it almost immediately.”

“Perhaps that is what you would do Lord Malfoy, but I am sure you are aware of our current political climate, with a certain Headmaster pulling the strings from behind I couldn’t predict our prince’s safety.” He knew it was gloating, but having more information on a new player was always something to be proud of.

“Of course. However I would have offered up my services as tutor for the young prince had I known.”  
“Fortunately Lord Black has been tutoring him privately from his home, Ravensfoot Manor. We floo’d in every week. Or we did, until he fell ill and the proxy fell to you.”  
“So Lord Black knew.” Lucius looked positively seething under that blank mask he always projected. The idea that his monarch had been under his nose the entire time and he hadn’t noticed, it positively irritated the man so used to getting what he wanted.

“Of course he knew. He wasn’t going to just hand over the Black lordship to anyone.”

* * *

 

For Hadrian, Yule went very smoothly once the presentation ball was over. There were still a few days left until the real celebration of yuletide and Hadrian was enjoying the last few days of freedom before his lessons resumed. He had been reading through a potions journal, Severus Snape - detailing the recent pending patent for a mental restorative - had published an entry (a prelude to something that could help patients suffering from Cruciatus induced insanity). He had always been impressed with the potions master, mainly because of his ability with potions but partially because of how Drummond spoke of him. Drummond had always held his nephew in high regard, and despite the disreputable things Severus Snape was accused of, Drummond had never stopped caring for the boy he had wanted to raise.

“Hadrian?” Edric usually let Hadrian to himself during his days off from lessons, allowing him the breaks he needed in order to manage the lessons and everything else he needed to process. Which was why Hadrian felt his heart plummet to his feet when he saw him standing in the doorway, Lucius Malfoy behind him. Edric looked almost lost, like he hadn’t been prepared, or he didn’t know what to say.

“What is it?”

“I am afraid that the time has come. Lord Black.” Edric gave him a formal bow and allowed Lucius to step into the room, _‘The bow a vassal gives a visiting allied Lord.’_ Hadrian mentally noted. Narcissa had been ruthless in her education, adding little things in that many would forget easily, or never even consider. But despite his memory of his lessons and his remembrances, all he could feel was numb. His grandfather, friend, and primary tutor had passed. There was no adjustment period. Hadrian Potter was Lord Black. He held the title even now before his eleventh birthday. _‘There will be a funeral to plan. Changes to be made to the Black estate and holdings. A will to be read…’_ The list of things to do seemed almost endless, and though he should have been feeling the stress and weight of his new position, al he could feel was grief. And despite all his lessons in manners and pureblood behaviour, Hadrian dropped the journal he had been holding tightly to, and fell to his knees. For the first time in almost nine years, Hadrian cried out his sorrows, and everyone hear it.

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The Empire of Avalon was used fully with the permission of ‘sifshadowheart’ in case anyone is thinking that I am plagiarizing her amazing work.


	6. Split Second Changes

Chapter Six – Split Second Changes

The burial of Lord Pollux Black was a quiet affair; only members of the Black Family (both extended and otherwise) were in attendance. The press and the public had been kept out of the family mausoleum and very very few friends were in attendance. Pollux Black was not a man who had friends, rather than acquaintances or business partners. Pollux had always said that business partners were easy to control and predict, acquaintances could be counted on for small favours but never large investments, not like family.

Pollux was dressed in his finest robes, black acromantula silk tailored to him specifically. His face was just as severe as it had been in life, and the rocks that sat over his eyelids captured the stormy grey in all their glory. He held his wand between his hands like the kings of Old had been buried with their swords. Hadrian had outdone everyone’s expectations with the sending away ceremony. Pollux looked like a king at peace with the world. Hadrian could almost feel the readiness to join Mother Magic in the core of Pollux Black, ready to be released into the great swirl of magic and bless another child with the gift he had enjoyed in his life. Only the oldest and most traditional of purebloods knew that magic stayed within the body for almost a week after death, but should be released within the days after its host perished in order for it to add to the strength of a newborn child.

Hadrian allowed Lucius to lead the Sending Off Ceremony, knowing that his knowledge on it would only embarrass his house. It wasn’t uncommon for a proxy to send off the head of a house when the heir was too young to know what to do. He kept his composure throughout the entire ceremony and even through the burial of his grandfather, keeping his face a blank mask. He had cried before, he needn’t do it again. Lord Pollux Black had been a man of progress, telling him to never linger in the past and what’s already been done, but to move on and do the work that was given for him to do. So he would follow the example set and do the work Pollux had left him to do. Lucius had volunteered to stay on as proxy, and Hadrian knew it would be seen as a snub to choose someone else. But there was also the thought of the will reading and the division of the estate amongst Pollux’s long list of relatives, all of them wanting something. A change in Headship meant a declaration of allegiance. Any Lords who wished to withdraw from the Black protections and benefits and choose another liege lord was free to do so at the time when Lordship passed from lord to heir. Hadrian had no doubt that a great deal of people wanted to see him overthrown or his House diminished. It was now his job to ensure that didn’t happen.

“Are you alright Hadrian?” Edric asked him when they managed to find some time alone.  
“I am fine. Just thinking about my duties.” Hadrian tried to reassure his guardian. Edric had prepared him as best he could for this moment.  
“It would not be considered a weakness to allow your proxy o handle the estates. Many young heirs have done that in the past and their house has never waned in influence or power.”  
“I will not allow someone to handle the affairs of my family without clear instructions. I am the lord of my house and I will not pass it off to another without the complete assurance that they will look out for my best interests.” Hadrian had to be firm on that point. No one would handle the Black affairs without his complete faith in them. Though he was friends with Draco, he didn’t know Lucius as well as his guardian did. And that said, even Edric didn’t trust him completely.

“I am to be a king, Edric. If I pass on my first responsibility, as Lord of House Black how will people have faith in me as a ruler? How will they know I won’t just hand them a regent with delusions of power and expect them to worship me? I cannot fail in this. _I will not._ ”

* * *

 The days after the funeral were quiet. Edric allowed Hadrian time off from his lessons in order to settle into his new role as Lord Black and make his decisions regarding his house. Hadrian wanted nothing more than to go back to his books and study his nights away, pretending the cruel world outside didn’t exist, and that he would one day rule over it. It was a tough pill to swallow, knowing that he would have power that conquerors and Dark Lords had dreamed of having, all at the expense of his family. He would be handed the proverbial “keys to the city” and be placed upon a pedestal to rule over the people – his people – while he was isolated and kept apart from everyone he had ever loved or hoped to love. Being a king was loneliness. And the death of Pollux Black had been the first step in that direction. This week made his head hurt and his heart ache, knowing what he had signed on to and how Lord Black was just the first step in that direction.

“Hadrian. You have a meeting with the Primary House Black in twenty minutes, you should start getting ready.” Ah yes. The primary House Black. The immediate family and their spouses all gathered in one place to hear what dear old Pollux had left them and what their new head of house would give them.

“Thank you Edric. I will be down in a moment.” He hadn’t expected it to happen so soon, Edric’s change from guardian to Private secretary. The change was happening too fast. He’d hardly had time to get used to his new role, and already Edric was taking a step back, stepping into the position of private secretary. Hadrian stood slowly, allowing himself a moment to linger inside his library, where he could get away from all the expectations of the world. Barely a few minutes later he was standing in the receiving room of Ravensfoot Manor. Pips, the manor house elf, had escorted him to the main hall where he was currently awaiting the arrival of the Greater House of Black. Daughters, sons and direct in-laws would be arriving with their children within the hour where Hadrian would divide up the properties Pollux had left to them and welcome children into the family. Hadrian however had demanded something different of his extended family – that everyone come to this gathering, including disowned, disinherited and illegitimate children. He was barely in the role of Head of House for forty-eight hours and he was already making waves.

The main hall was large enough to be a ballroom, black marble floors and onyx pillars spiraling up into an enchanted ceiling, not unlike ceiling of Hogwarts the only difference being that the ceiling was perpetually hidden by grey clouds swirling overhead. The clouds created a gloomy atmosphere and a foreboding sense to anyone who entered the room. A beautiful piece of enchantment if Hadrian did say so himself. The clouds were filled with Dark Energy, the excess from Dark spells and rituals that would have been left to permeate the rest of the Manor, the extra energy could be drawn on in the case of a ritual that required more power than could be provided, or just to create the feeling of gloom that anyone who entered the hall felt. This was what had always set the Black family apart from other pureblooded families. Their sheer brilliance couldn’t be denied.

Hadrian pushed outward with his magic, feeling the built up energy inside the tumultuous clouds. It hummed at his touch, swirling around his own twines of magic and tying itself into his own core. And Hadrian felt the power inside him grow. This was what Pollux Black had guarded for all these years. This wasn’t just excess magic of generations of Black Lords, this was the core of the Black Family Magic. This was where the first Lord Black had stored the recessive ability of metamorphosis, and where the Black families madness grew. The House of Black had been living with their family magic active outside of their cores. The prolonged separation of the power had been what caused many a Black woman or man to lose their grip on reality.

But why had the first Lord Black locked it away? Why had he sealed his family’s core inside his home and kept it from future generations?

“It was our punishment.” Hadrian spun around. Standing before him was the ghost of Cygnus Black the first. “We were once a very different house, descendants of Morgause with a deep hate for those descended from Merlin or Arthur. We openly rebelled against the crown and in doing so we were punished. Our family magic was separated from our cores and forced into the lords house where we could feel it and gain trickles from it, but never again wield it until a time when House Black came under the headship of a Merlinian or Arthurian descendant. I am proud to see our strength return to my children. You will do great things your grace, a great many things.” And the ghost disintegrated into dust that was sucked upwards and into the clouds.

A knock sounded on the doors to the main hall. The children of Black had arrived.

* * *

 

Lepus Braxton had no idea why he was being brought before Lord Black. His father, Alberny Braxton – a minor lord with little to nothing except what the Greater House of Black had provided for him due to their patronage - had dragged him from his room early in the morning to make a trip into Diagon Alley. Lepus had received a new pair of robes and a proper haircut his house elf usually provided him with. Lepus knew why his “father” treated him with such disdain and his “mother” never acknowledged his presence in their home. He was a bastard – as his father and older brother called him – a mistake that should never have happened. Merlin knows why Alberny had kept him after his birth mother had left him on the doorstep of the Braxton Home. All Lepus knew about his birth mother was that she had been a member of the Greater Black House and was hardly a woman who cared for children. He had been a mistake on both sides of the act.

“You will address the Lord Black with the proper amount of respect if he calls on you. And that is _a very big If_. Doubtless the new Lord Black cares about you, nothing but a blight on both the family names.” Alberny snapped, straightening his bastard son’s robes one last time.

“Yes sir.” Lepus intoned, trying not to be hurt by his father’s harsh tone and rough handling.  
“Perhaps you ought to leave him there. Let Lord Black decide what to do with him.” Kendra Braxton, Alberny’s pinch faced wife, sneered from her spot at the table. She had been invited to neither the Declaration nor the Gathering. Alberny was only going because Lepus was his “son” and couldn’t be sent alone. Lepus had grown up with the casual flippancy and general hatred of him, so nothing new on that front. However he had never been invited to Ravensfoot, nor been asked to be at the gathering of the Greater House Black.

Alberny apparated them right in front of the outer gates to the manor. After forcefully tapping one of Lepus’ hands against the wrought iron gates they were allowed entrance to Ravensfoot. The Manor was huge and menacing from the outside. Large spiraling towers made it look very much like a castle, and less like a manor house.

“This is the Black’s ancestral seat, boy. Lord after Lord has governed from here and each one madder than the next. Pollux was the sanest of them all, and he never left the house.” Alberny prodded him in the back with the back of his arm. They were already late and Lepus feared how the new Lord Black would react to a minor lord bringing his bastard son late to the Gathering.

“Pips will be taking the coats.” A small house elf stood with her tiny arms open for their coats, waiting for them to be handed over. Lepus noted that she wore a uniform, well cared for and barely a thread out of place. The Black Crest was adorned proudly on her chest, shining in the candlelight. Alberny dropped his coat on the ground, missing the harsh glare sent his way by the elf.

“Thank you.” Lepus handed her his coat, threadbare and barely warm enough for the harsh moor winds and sinking wetness. The entrance hall was no less grandiose than the exterior of the house, but far more impressive. The spiraling columns, so black and so clear that Lepus could see his own reflection in the stone. He bumped into a woman, caught staring up at the darkening clouds that twisted overhead. An enchanted ceiling, similar to Hogwarts, but darker and more sinister. The woman barely spared him a second glance, despite his apology. And wasn’t that unusual. He was so used to people giving him pitying looks or disgusted faces. A lady with blond hair and dark eyes caught his, a spark of familiarity ran through her – Lepus could see her mind whirling trying to place where she had seen him before.

“Excuse me darling. I’ve someone I need to speak with.” She released herself from the arm of a stern, cold-faced man with long platinum hair. A young boy that must have been their son stood passively beside him, barely giving him a glance as his mother whirled away. He was probably used to it. _‘Heir’s grow up young.’_ Alberny had told him once in one of his rare moments of parental wisdom. Lepus could tell just by the way the boy held himself that he was an Heir of a Greater House.

“Lady Malfoy. A pleasure.” Alberny greeted the woman – Narcissa Malfoy from his father – with a bow and a kiss on her hand. She looked at Alberny like she was looking at a bug, or a nasty potions ingredient. It would have been amusing if her eyes hadn’t turned on him in the next second.

“Mr. Braxton.” Not a lord then, just a man under the patronage of the Black family name. “May I?” Her question was vague, but Alberny gave a nod and seconds later she had bent down to see him better.  
“Stunning. Simply stunning how much you look like her.” Her gloved fingers brushed lightly over Lepus’ cheek, he would firmly deny that he had briefly leaned in to the casual touch. He couldn’t deny that he missed it when she pulled her hand away.

“Like who ma’am?” Alberny gave him a nudge in the ribs at his ridiculous question. She meant his mother, the whore (as according to Miss Braxton) and disgrace (according to everyone else).  
“My sister. You have her cheeks, and her nose. But you have your father’s eyes. I recognized it right away. Rudy always had such handsome eyes. Such a waste, keeping you locked away from the family. I’m sure Draco would have appreciated a friend.” Lepus was puzzled. Alberny had always claimed parentage over him, and always said that he looked like his mother. Perhaps that was the one quality that Lepus enjoyed about himself, how he looked nothing like his “father”.

“It wouldn’t do to sully the Malfoy family with a bastard boy, born of adultery.” Alberny hissed, trying to keep his voice low as to hide the shame of being amongst his betters with a bastard of their own House.  
“Oh dear. You seem to be misinformed about my dear sister. Bastian would have known about her activities, they didn’t love each other but some things even he could forgive.” Subtext. There was so much subtext going on, hidden messages beneath the spoken words. Lepus was both awed by her ability to keep his father guessing about his identity and still keep her cool, as well as frustrated by the lack of information she was giving him about his own parents.

“Come find me after the Gathering. We’ll talk.” And she sashayed away with all the grace of a noble woman.

“You should have stayed silent.” Alberny’s hand clamped sown on his shoulder, squeezing him just hard enough that it wouldn’t leave a lasting impression physically. Lepus got the message. He would stay away from the Malfoy family unless otherwise directed.

* * *

Hadrian could feel them outside the doors. Waiting with bated breath to get a look at the man who controlled them and their fates. He could dissolve marriages, separate families, disinherit children. He held the power of a king within his own bloodline. But only to a King would the Noble Lords bow. And Hadrian was one – well not yet. Hadrian held the fates of every man woman and child that was waiting for him in the entrance hall, crowded together like cattle and that was what they were to some. Illegitimate children and disgraced siblings, the betrayers of blood. They were all there, waiting to see the main hall of Ravensfoot, open to them for the first time since the inheritance of Pollux Black, decades before many were born. Pollux had always been a private person, and the secret he was forced to guard made social interaction very difficult. He had rarely left the ancient seat. And even less were people allowed to enter uninhibited.

He heard the knock on the door, seconds– maybe minutes or hours or days – ago and he was suddenly struck with how big a responsibility this was. How much bigger his future would be. He had been handed the care of entire family, and in two years he would be handed the keys to a country that revered his family name – both as a Potter and a Davenport – and the power of a nation that had been silent on the world map for centuries. Avalon had been dead, forgotten even by his own ancestors. And Hadrian was no responsible for it all.

“Let them in.” He ordered, the magic in his veins and in the walls of the house (if it could even be called that) responded and the doors slowly creaked open. Hadrian stood tall on the dais at the end of the hall, watching as his “family” slowly trickled in.

Lady Malfoy was unmistakable with her hair and the way she held herself. Beside her was Lucius Malfoy, his uncle and closest living blood relative, and between the two was Draco. The Malfoy heir had been taken out of school to attend the Gathering. He looked nervous from what Hadrian could see, but he hid it well, under a mask of contempt and arrogance.

“Merry Met.” The crowd greeted him, with varying degrees of reverence.  
“Welcome.” Hadrian had the power here; he had to remind himself before he returned their greeting. He didn’t need to greet them; he just needed to welcome them. He was Lord – they vassals. There weren’t as many as he had expected. But then a great deal of them had died without leaving children behind. “Ravensfoot welcomes you.” The magic swirled through the room, happy to have its family back inside its walls. A few of the weaker members of the house wobbled slightly, and even the stronger could hardly contain their gasps at the feeling of the ancestral magic returning to them and filling their cores.

“Let us get to business. Pollux Black, may he rest in peace, named me: Hadrian Potter-Davenport his heir in the years before he passed. I stand before you today as a lord, your lord. I have taken the ancestral seat, and the ancestral magic of the Black Family has answered my call. But there are changes to be made. Changes that many of you will not enjoy, and many of you will. We are a shrinking house. We are looked with disdain, smeared by the reputation of bad blood. I have decided that certain branches of our tree should be watered and given reparation, while others should be cut away. Dead to us, dead to our magic, and dead even in spirit. Bad blood and all that.” He could see the effects of his words on them already, fear and uncertainty crossing the faces of many.

“Andromeda Tonks, Theodore Tonks step forward.” A beautiful woman with curly black hair and dark eyes stepped out of the crowd, a nervous man with floppy hair and a creased forehead following swiftly behind her.  
“My lord.” They both murmured.  
“Andromeda Tonks I reinstate you to the Black bloodline. But I refuse you any claim to the headship of the Greater Black Family or any properties belonging to the Greater Black house. Theodore Tonks, I welcome you into my family as a consort to Andromeda Black, but I refuse you the family name and any inheritances you would receive as a full member of my house. I also welcome Nymphadora Tonks as a member of my family, and provide for her a stipend of two thousand galleons a month for which to finish her schooling and make a name for herself in our world, with the stipulation that the allowance will end upon the time she is capable of earning for herself or marries into a family of reasonable stature.” Both looked flushed, Andromeda had tears in her eyes at being welcome back to her family.

“Narcissa Malfoy nee Black and Draco Malfoy.” Narcissa looked stunned and a brief moment, afraid. She pulled herself together and stepped forwards, Draco – paler than usual – beside her. “I thank you for your loyalty to your family and commend you for your strength. But should you ever choose to stray from your family loyalty’s at the behest of a madman again I will see you stripped off the family tree and dissolve the marriage between yourself and the esteemed Lord Malfoy.” Narcissa paled at his threat. He had researched the war and the actions of certain families. Narcissa was tied to Lucius for better or for worse, but she had looked the other way when her family, the Black family, was put in danger time and time again. She had betrayed them, silently and passively.

“Draco Malfoy, I name you my successor should I be unable to govern this House in a manner that will suit its interests and protect its members. You will be my first heir, unless I sire any children that will be fit to take the title.” Draco looked flushed and Hadrian gave him a small smile, which was returned by a shaky grin. Draco would do very well.  
“Thank you, my lord.”  
“You honour us my lord.” And both returned to their places.

“Sirius Black is unable to join us today. Pollux Black set into motion events before his death in order to clear our name of betrayal. The Wizengamot will try Sirius Black, as the Wizengamot was designed and formed in the days of King Alexander the first of Avalon. Should he be found guilty he will be cast out of this house, all titles, properties and assets given to him by our house will be stripped from him and he will be a nameless criminal until his death. Should he be found innocent, then a great wrong has bee done to our house and I will not let the insult continue.” There was shifting in the crowd below him, a few cautious and curious looks between neighbors. They were ignorant of the damage Sirius’ unlawful imprisonment could do to their reputation. They could be scorned or considered weak. They probably had already been written off as passive by the current ministry.

“Regulus Black is also unable to join us due to reasons unknown. I am committed to finding him and returning him to us, so that his body can be given the final rights and rituals. A Black will not be desecrated while I oversee the governing of our family.” He took a moment of silence in respect to the missing heir. Regulus should have been standing here, making this speech and making these decisions. But he wasn’t, and Hadrian was.

“Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black betrayed us and has done more damage to us than can be allowed. She followed a madman and a terrorist and betrayed the vows held by her family, to guard the throne of Avalon even while it sits waiting. She is no longer a member of this house. I take from her all properties, assets and titles given to her by this house. She is dead to me. Bellatrix Black will never again grace the family tapestry, not even her name will be passed down.” And that was the greatest insult any Lord could give a member of his own house. That even their name would never be given again. That they were truly nothing in the eyes of their house. He had wished to set an example of her, make them fear returning the Voldemort should he ever return.

“My last order of business. Lepus Braxton, child of Bellatrix and Rudolphus Lestrange. Step forward.” Shock waves rippled through the room. A small, rather thin boy with short black hair and sharp eyes stepped out from the crowd and slowly made his way towards him. He was small for a twelve year old, though still a fair bit taller than Hadrian himself. He could see himself in the way he held himself and the way he moved. Lepus Braxton was like him. An abandoned child of little to no worth to those who had taken him in.

“Lepus Braxton. I hereby name you Lepus Black, a legitimate member of my house through our blood.” Hadrian had planned on stopping there. But there was something Lepus’ eyes, something that made him change his plans. “And I take you as a Ward into the House of Potter.”

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I Confess. This chapter is kind of boring but also kind of necessary. I do have plans for Lepus that will tie up a problem I have seen coming for a while now, but I will say it now - Lepus/Hadrian is not a thing. It never will be a thing, and I couldn't ever make it a thing. Neither will this be Drarry. Sorry to fans of that ship, but it has sailed. I don't have any pairings yet, but I do know that it will be a slash pairing - so again, sorry.
> 
> In other news i finished Sherlock season 4 and have been writing another Sherlock/Harry Potter crossover on the side. I may not post it yet until I have either finished off one of my other crossovers, or have finished writing it. But I may get tired of having no one to give me feedback on it and post it anyway.
> 
> Also, I will not be updating for maybe three weeks after this - an extra week without an update - so that I can get my shit together like everyone's been asking me to do. Sorry guys.
> 
> Side note - I have no beta. I have already made a ton of mistakes with small facts, spelling, grammar or worldbuilding things, so please point them out to me and I will probably fix them if I can.
> 
> Thank you all so much for the support and I love all my reviewers so much, so keep doing reviewing or I will never write anything again and you will be left with a cliff-hanger the size of Game of Throne season 6 or Sherlock season 2 (if you have seen neither compare those cliff hangers to someone you love hanging off the side of a boat dangling into the pit of tartarus with no way to stop them from falling [JK that's Percy Jackson series 2 book 4] or a movie freezing right before the hero is shot and that will be a sizable comparison).
> 
> So review and I Love You (sorry not sorry),
> 
> DNStalker


	7. A Few New Truths

Chapter Seven: A Few New Truths

_July 29th 1981_

_Lily waited for Albus, he had promised her he would be there tonight. James had been anxious for a son, and so far she wasn’t able to deliver. They had tried treatments, both magical and muggle, but she was sterile. She would never be able to have a child of her own. James had brushed the news off and pretended that this news didn't bother him. But she could see it when she looked at him, the day they found out and every day after, he was devastated. So here she waited for a solution to her problems._

_Albus didn’t come. But a short, balding man in black robes and a bowler hat approached her._

_“You waiting for someone dear?” He asked. He sounded nervous, like he was waiting for someone to jump out from behind a wall to snatch him away. Which could have been likely considering their current climate. The war made everyone jumpy._   
_“Yes, actually.” She tried to turn him away, keep him as far from her as possible. She vaguely recognized him from somewhere, but she just couldn’t place it._   
_“Oh. Well…” He stumbled for a moment, trying to figure out what to say to her. “Do you need someone to wait with you?”_   
_“No. I am just fine, on my own.” She struggled to place his face, at the same time she tried to avoid looking at him._   
_“Shame.” He stood before her, shifting nervously._

_“Is there something I can help you with?” She sighed, trying to get him to move on before Dumbledore arrived._   
_“No. Unless… There’s something I can help you with?”_   
_“Unless you can get me a child.” She muttered under her breath._

_“A child you say?” ‘Shit.’ He must have heard her; standing so close her she could feel his breath on her chest._   
_“Sorry. I’ve been diagnosed as sterile. I’ll never have children.” He gave a slight smile and straightened up, he looked taller and more confident in himself all at once._   
_“I am very sorry ma’am. But I have recently become aware of a woman in St. Mungos who is looking to give up her son. She lost her husband in a raid and is terribly ill. She won’t be able to care for the baby after he’s born, so the poor thing would likely be thrown into the muggle world.” He sounded sympathetic, almost hurt by the idea of a child being thrown away because of an ill parent._

_“Who did you say this was?” She hedged._   
_“Just a woman in St. Mungos. I overheard the nurses talking after I visited a friend this afternoon.” He took a moment, recalling the incident for her. “Well. I must be off.” And just like that he was gone. And barely a second later Lily was gone too, preparing for the child that she would have very soon. James would love her the more for this. And last she had heard, blood adoption wasn’t yet illegal._

_Albus Dumbledore never arrived with information about a pregnant woman in St. Mungos, carrying the future of the wizarding world. He never told her about the changes a prince and monarch would cause if he was allowed to live and grow. He was busy elsewhere, creating a prophecy that would effect the course of the war. And moving a child to a new home, away from the grasping hands of Dark Wizards._

* * *

Edric had ordered Lepus’ belongings into one of the great rooms for the time being. He would have the child pick his rooms after his introductions to his new family. Very rarely did a great family legitimize a bastard child, but Hadrian rarely did what was expected of him. The child of Bellatrix Lestrange and Rabastian Lestrange was a shock to everyone in attendance, the boy had been kept unknown for years under the pretense of keeping shame from the family. The very idea that Bellatrix had left her child to a relatively unknown minor lord with little to no relation to the Black family at all reeked of someone interfering where they weren't welcome. The only child of the Lestrange family after the twins should have gone to their closest familial relative, Narcissa Malfoy nee Black being the closest. Not an upstart lord of a minor house with no political connections or reputation to protect.

But despite all this, Hadrian had seen first, a boy who needed help and a family. He had seen himself in the tall (and slightly older) boy. Lepus should have been at Hogwarts this year, but House Braxton had evidently enrolled him for neither the current year nor the following. Should Lepus want to attend the boarding school at all, Edric would make the necessary arrangements. Hadrian had yet to decide if he wanted to attend a wizarding school or if he felt the need to be privately tutored at home and away from the public eye. Personally Edric hated the idea of Hadrian being inside Dumbledore’s domain, especially with him still recovering from his past and adjusting to his future. Hadrian would do far better under private tutelage than Hogwarts could, and he felt that Hogwarts couldn’t prepare him for his inevitable future. A king didn't need to understand the technicalities of charms and transfiguration, nor about how to make a drought of living death, nor how to read tea leaves and understand what a muggle toaster looked like. He had (or would have) potioneers and ward masters, guards and gardeners. A Hogwarts education couldn’t prepare him for political manoeuvres, how to shut rebellion down, carry oneself, avoid war or negotiate peace terms. Hogwarts served the general public and certain private houses. The Malfoy’s, despite being a particularly politically active, were often potions masters or healers, and thus attended Hogwarts. Their future still had options, choices and freedoms. Hadrian had lost those the day he had decided to become King, and now a lord.

Lepus had been sent to the bathrooms to clean himself up a bit before dinner. He had worn the usual awestruck look of a man coming into the palace for the first time. Though in truth, Blackwell Hall was less of a castle and more of a small Manor house. Opulent and exciting to common folk, but pitiful and small to those of the Great Houses. Blackwell’s were just stewards to the Potter Estates, not a noble house on their own. Should the Lord Potter choose to name another house their steward, the name Blackwell would fade into oblivion.

“Are you sure of this Hadrian? An adopted boy at the age of eleven?” He didn’t mean to second-guess his King, it had simply astonished him that Hadrian would act on impulse and take on a ward, so young.  
“Yes.”  
“Perhaps allowing the Malfoy’s to raise him would have been better.”  
“He needs a family Edric. A proper one.” Hadrian snapped. “Not just a distant relative raising him to be a lord of a house in a way that would secure political favours and public opinion. He needs a family.”  
“And who will be his family Hadrian? You? You are barely ready to be in public as Lord Black, let alone raise an orphaned heir. You are ten years old. You cannot raise a child.” Hadrian looked almost hurt for a moment. Staring at Edric like he had just thrown out a beloved toy. Then he closed off and gave him the blank mask Narcissa had drilled into him.

“No. But I have no need for an heir for my own holdings yet. You however need someone to take over as Potter Steward after you become my private secretary. I need to be secure in my knowledge that my House will not fall to ruin while I care to the needs of my country. As a ward of House Potter, Lepus has an exclusive chance to be raised in the environment of acting Head of House, with active needs that need to be filled. Therefore Lepus will be specifically trained with the knowledge necessary for a Steward.” That was a fair argument, Edric realised. Hadrian may have acted on impulse, but he had obviously thought it through after the face. Besides, he himself had been raised with James Potter, despite his own family to look after. He had been a part of the Marauders, despite being a couple years younger than them and never participating in their ‘marauding’.

“And if Lepus doesn’t want to be your Steward? What will you do with him then? He does have a responsibility of his own to see to. The Headship of House Lestrange. He is the only heir, born from an unfaithful union granted, of House Lestrange. Unless the current Lord – Rubeus Lestrange – names another as the heir.”  
“He will be allowed to follow whatever chosen path he desires, and I will fund it as acting Lord Black. I claimed him as a member of my family, as such I will support him in his future.” Hadrian was angry at him, Edric realised, angry that he was suggesting that leaving Lepus behind with abusive relatives was in any way better than being the ward of a ten year old. Of course he would feel strongly about it, when he had never been wanted and treated like a parasite. Hadrian was right about him though. He needed an heir, and Lepus was a good choice. He looked intelligent enough and had a reputable background to serve as steward to the Potter holdings when Hadrian took the crown.

“I apologise, Hadrian. I hadn’t thought.”  
“Accepted. Please have Lepus choose a room close to both of our quarters, and have the tutors notified that they will have a second student. Lepus will be attending Hogwarts in the fall, please see to his tuition.” Hadrian ordered.  
“Of course.” A shift in power had already occurred, Hadrian was perhaps more prepared than he had thought.

Lepus was waiting in the front hallway still, clutching a small bag of his personal items. He looked very much like Hadrian had in his first days at Blackwell Hall. He was swinging his legs absently and chewing on his lower lip whilst staring up the very large staircase, trying to catch a peek at the rest of the house. He was young, Edric realised, only eleven and taken from the only environment he knew. Likely he had raised himself with help from the house elves, due to his rather lackluster guardians. Likely he had lived a very lonely life up until this point. No friends and no family willing to take time to be with him, let alone speak or play with him. Hadrian had been right to remove him from that household.

“Mr. Black.” Lepus’ attention was on him instantly, not with fear or hope, just expectant. “Lord Black welcomes you to his home, unfortunately he is still sorting out the particulars of his new responsibilities and is unable to welcome you further. He has instructed me to show you some rooms that might be in order for you.” Edric fell into the role of Secretary and head of the household quite easily, allowing Lepus to meet him as someone unintimidating first before he met the side of him that was the Potter Steward and Guardian of a Lord/Prince.

“Yessir.” Another young man forced to call his relatives by honourifics like “sir” or “ma’am”. The two boys were more similar than he had realised. Lepus followed him closely, not quite dogging his steps but close enough that Edric could feel him behind him. They reached the Family Wing of Blackwell Manor, where Edric kept his rooms and Hadrian his. There were three empty rooms in the entire wing that were suitable for a living guest. One of which was larger than all the others as it had been the nursery once-upon-a-time. Lepus picked a relatively small room with a large window and a private bathroom. His cases were delivered and his clothes put away the moment he declared it as his.

“May I see your clothing?” Edric asked, already making his way towards the wardrobe. Lepus nodded and moved to stand by his bed. The clothes themselves weren’t wholly awful, just a little out-dated or slightly worn. But they weren’t rags by any means, nor were they in such terrible condition that he required a completely new wardrobe. “They aren’t in awful condition. But we will be needing to get you some new formal robes, and some new dress robes for special events. Some new casuals, or even play clothes won’t be amiss. You’ll need school robes too.”

“School robes?” Lepus gasped.  
“Hmm? Yes. You’ll be attending Hogwarts in the next school year, so perhaps we can hold off on those for a bit.” Lepus still looked shocked, even more so at the idea of attending Hogwarts.  
“I never got a Hogwarts letter.” Lepus revealed, emotionless.

“I’m sorry what?”  
“I never got a Hogwarts letter. Lord Braxton said I was a squib.”  
“Impossible. You wouldn’t have been registered on the Black family tapestry as a descendant of Bellatrix Lestrange had you been a squib.” It was thoroughly impossible for a young wizard to never receive a Hogwarts letter at the age of eleven, even if they were a muggleborn on the island of Sark.

“I will have to look into that, but I guarantee that you will be attending Hogwarts in the new school year, even if I have to go through the Board of Governors.” And he would. Every young untrained witch or wizard had a right to attend school for their abilities. It was a matter of national security as well. Untrained muggleborns often wreaked havoc when they weren’t properly trained to control their magic.

“Thank you.” Lepus whispered. He looked happy, like he had been given the world.

“Don’t think on it. I will leave you to settle in, I’ll have a house elf fetch you for dinner.”

* * *

 

Lepus’ life had been turned on an axis since the morning of the Declaration Gathering when he had been taken to Diagon Alley for new robes. Before he was barely aware of life outside of the Braxton’s hatred and inattention. Now he had been thrown right into it. He had been thrown into a world with servants, bedrooms and new closets full of new clothes. He would even be able to attend Hogwarts in the fall. This was a dream come true. Yet his one fear still festered inside. The Braxtons had hated him and shown him little to no attention, but he had no way of knowing of Lord Black would even acknowledge him past the initial adoption. The Lord was only ten, a child, and still Lepus was his ward. He answered to Lord Black and as a child he was concerned rash or inappropriate decisions would be made.

Lepus spent the rest of his evening in his room, examining everything from the filled bookshelves to the bathroom sink. He also spent his time in slight fear of what would happen when Lord Black called him down for dinner, and if he would be allowed out of his rooms when not in the company of Lord Black or Lord Blackwell. He had always feared total isolation. Perhaps he should have refused to leave the Braxton’s, but he had been eager to leave them and their difficult lifestyle. He had wanted a better life. He needed a better life.

“Dinner is ready, master Black. The Lord Black be waiting for you in the dining room.” A young house elf, wearing a clean and neatly pressed uniform stood in the doorway. She was cleaner than those Lord Braxton had kept and bore no scars or bruises, vastly unlike those Lord Braxton had kept. Most of his foster-father’s elves were so beaten and broken that most were either permanently disfigured (and kept out of sight of even the wife) or had little to no free-will and thus were used only for the basic menial tasks, no longer used for rearing children or handing out food at dinner parties. Newer, prettier house elves were used for such events. If they ever held any parties at all. The Braxton’s were very good at weeding themselves into people’s dinner parties and into their affairs.

“Master Black?” The House elf questioned.  
“Forgive me, but I don’t know the way.” The house elf smiled and gave a slight bow  
“No worries master Black, I will be bringing you down to the dinning room.” The house elf grabbed his hand and guided him carefully towards the dining room so that he would be able to memorise the way. The home of Lord Edric Blackwell was grand – unlike anything Lepus had see before – and at the same time it was very simple. In comparison to Ravensfoot, Blackwell Hall was very small and lacked the grandeur that the main home of the Greater Black House had. But in comparison to Braxton Manor, the Hall was elegant and looked the part of a Minor Potter house.

“Here we are Master Black.”  
“Thank you…”  
“Pym.” With another bow and a warm smile the house elf popped away. Lepus was left in the hall, unsure of whether he needed to knock or just enter the room. After a moments deliberation he decided it would be best to knock before he entered, in case he wasn’t wanted or he was late.

“Yu may come in Lepus.” Lord Blackwell called, waving him inside when he popped his head around the door. The dining room wasn’t overdone or flowing with splendour. Just a simple wooden table (the most elegant thing in the room with it’s carved spirals and faces) and a small, homey fireplace. Edric was already seated at the head of the table and Lord Black at the other end. Despite his young age Hadrian Black cut an imposing figure to Lepus. He was bent over parchments and a quill was scratching away, signatures dancing over the papers.

“Good evening Lord Blackwell, Merry met Lord Black.” The scratching of the quill stopped abruptly.  
“Merry met Lepus Black.” Lord Black answered, turning to face his ward. Any thoughts of Hadrian Black being intimidating vanished. He looked just as young as he really was one you saw his face and the baffled expression on it. He looked surprised that his ward greeted him lie he was guest inside his new home. The he smiled, warm and wide.

“You can just call me Hadrian, if I can just call you Lepus?” He was uncertain, Lepus realized. He was just as uncertain (and perhaps as lonely) as Lepus himself.  
“That’s fine.” And just like that they were both set a little more at ease.

“Are your rooms to your liking Lepus?” After the main course of dinner had been served Hadrian opened the conversation.  
“Yes they are Lor-Hadrian. I haven’t ever had a large room before, or one with such wide windows.” There, hopefully that was appropriate enough.  
“I have made an appointment with the tailor for both of you.” Lord Blackwell informed them, still picking at his potatoes. “You are both in dire need of some new robes.” Hadrian groaned at that, his eyes closing in the tell-tale sigh of frustration. Lepus would have done the same had he not been so nervous to impress both Lords.

“None of that Hadrian! I will not have you disgracing yourself with improper robes at Wizengamot meetings and ministry functions. You are a Lord now, not just an heir. And more than that you will be king one day, you are being watched much closer than you were as even the Boy – Who – Lived. People are waiting for you to make a mistake.” Hadrian folded his face into a blank mask and apologised to Edric, looking ever like a chastised child. “And I will not have you, Lepus Black, disgracing my good name and your families by being dressed below your station. So you can wipe that grin off your face right now.” Lepus hadn’t even realised he was grinning, but he was quick to straighten his face out. “On the other hand, I am quite happy that you are feeling a bit more comfortable with us.”

* * *

Kendra Braxton had been teasing her husband when she had suggested that he leave the Boy behind with Lord Black. She had never expected him to truly leave him with them. But he had, and now she was in a nasty position. She had kept a secret from her husband, a secret that perhaps she should not have kept. Had she not, then perhaps he might be able to help her. And perhaps she would not be sitting at the Hogs Head bar, waiting for Albus Dumbledore to show his face. Alberny had noticed that less money was coming into the house. He had confronted the ministry payroll personnel about it, but she was very well aware that her husband had never been cheated out of a wage. She had been making money on the side, at the expense of Lepus Black. She had always known that Alberny hadn’t sired the boy, that his discretions against her had never bore fruit. But his guilt and shame kept him on a tight leash, and he never strayed during the years Lepus had lived inside their home.

Kendra Braxton had hated her marriage, hated the role she had been forced to play by her mother and furthermore she despised the lack of power that came with a husband. But she had found a way around it. With time she had realized how truly weak her husband was, and how difficult he found even the simplest of tasks. He worked in the lower levels of the ministry, sorting papers for people with actual offices and official titles. A glorified mailman. So she had taken charge of the household and the running of the affairs. Then the affair had happened. She had pretended not to notice that her husband returned later than he said, and often never came home. She had ignored it because he kept his nose out of her business and out of his own houses affairs.

Barely a year later Lepus had been brought to them, red faced and squalling. And with him a monthly stipend. One that was no longer being provided.

“Albus will see you now.” She gathered her skirts and went to face Albus Dumbledore.

“What can I do for you my dear?” His grandfatherly smile and irritating twinkle were ever present.  
“You know exactly what I want. The monthly stipend has stopped. We were promised that stipend until the boy’s majority.” She snapped. They needed the money and she wouldn’t let a schoolteacher cheat her out of it.  
“Ah… You were provided with the stipend until the majority for as long as he resided under your roof. I have been made aware that Lepus Lestrange no longer lives under the Braxton family roof, nor even with the Braxton family. So you see my dear, the payments have stopped.” Now that just wouldn’t do.

“I can expose you Headmaster. I could tell the world the truth about what you did. I’m sure Lady Malfoy would love to hear about your theft.”

“But then you would be implicating yourself alongside me Kendra. An accomplice.” His smile had faded and magic was beginning to gather in the room. Kendra spluttered and tried to defend her threat, mouth opening and closing in rage. “I gave you Lepus Lestrange because you needed to keep your husband in line and the heir to such a powerful family could not be left in the hands of the Malfoys. You offered yourself to me as a solution to my problem, eliminating yours. An accomplice, my dear girl.”

“I want the promised money.”  
“The money was promised to you only while Lepus Lestrange was under your control and malleable. Now he is in the hands of the Black family, he will no longer be malleable to working against Voldemort. No longer a future source of income once the Order is rallied again. You failed me Kendra Braxton.”

Kendra was escorted out of the Hogs Head empty handed and vowing revenge.

* * *

“And you’re sure of this?” Lucius demanded. Edric had just finished telling him of Lepus’ lack of a Hogwarts letter.  
“He told me himself. I even looked into it at the ministry records. He never received his letter.”  
“Now that is troubling. A young wizard denied his education. Illegal, not to mention dangerous.” Lucius was thoroughly intrigued. This was a violation of the laws he upheld as a part of the Wizengamot and something that positively reeked of Albus Dumbledore interfering where he shouldn’t. Edric Blackwell had uncovered a tremendous amount of illegalities and indiscretions taking place right under the wizengamots nose, simply by caring for his House and doing his job. Perhaps he shouldn’t have scoffed when Edric Blackwell had asked for his help years ago.

“What would you have me do?”  
“Look into it. And I need Lepus to be registered for Hogwarts for the next school year, with his age group.” Lucius considered it, but this was a lot of work that would need to be done, not to mention he would need to convince the board of governors to allow a student to skip a year of schooling with no previous record of magical education.

“Do this for me and I will allow help you bring Dumbledore off his high horse and out of the wizengamot. And in addition to that I will ensure Lepus successfully completes the first year exams, at no cost to you or the board of governors.”

“A generous offer, but we both agree that this benefits you more than me.”  
“I disagree. This offer helps both of us equally. I get my ward’s ward into a proper magical education and you get Dumbledore out of the Wizengamot. We both benefit, and I believe you benefit more than I.”  
“On the contrary, as soon as Hadrian comes of age he will take the throne and any changes I make can be repealed. I have a time limit to reap the benefits, you will get a well rounded young man with connections, and renown in the coming years. You definitely better more than I.” Lucius reminded Edric, trying to weasel a better offer out of the Kings guardian.

“Let us not forget who is owed a kingly favour here Lucius. I promised you a favour from the king himself.” Indeed, he did hold a single favour from the King. A favour that could be used to keep any changes made by Lucius in place. But Lucius already had a plan for his favour, one that would give him a greater power in the new world Hadrian would create.

“I don’t plan on using my favours so crassly. I prefer to make plans and see them come to fruition in the long run, instead of the cheap and quick thrill of instant gratification.” Edric gave Lucius a genuine smile. The Malfoy Lord was truly a Slytherin amongst Slytherins.

“Hadrian will not be taking the throne until he is of age. You have seven years to create legislation and change the way the wizarding world functions. Seven years of free reign inside the Wizengamot.” That peaked Lucius interest, Edric could see it in his eyes. With Dumbledore removed from his place on the Wizengamot, another head would need to be chosen. The head of the Wizengamot would be chosen based off of who held the most votes in the room. Dumbledore held the Potter votes through Proxy (which Edric was still trying to wrangle out of the mans greedy hands), the Weasley vote (as no Weasley was allowed to enter the Wizengamot chamber with their status as Blood-Traitors), and the Longbottom vote (as the Lady Dowager had chosen to remain out of active council sessions until Neville was in school – which she should be taking back any day now), making him the holder of the most votes – and thus making him the head of the Wizengamot. Lucius held the Black votes by Proxy as well as the Malfoy votes making him the second most influential person in the chamber. There was also the large possibility that Dumbledore held the Lestrange votes by Proxy, even though Lepus hadn’t been legitimised by Rubeus Lestrange, and despite Rubeus still holding the Headship of his House.

“Very well. In return for a full seven years of uninterrupted policy changes and new legislature. I won’t have you interfering in the Wizengamot until Hadrian comes of age.” A dangerous deal. Edric knew the potential for harm Lucius had, and the amount of damage that he could deal to the progress they had achieved.

“I will be taking the Potter votes, and thus have a seat on the Wizengamot, so I shall be using those votes for the betterment of my liege-house and the world on large, but I will not run a vendetta against you, and I will support decisions that will lead to better policy. Does that suffice?” The Malfoy Lord was considering it.

“Very well. But this will have to wait until Sirius Black’s case is in review.” Edric had forgotten about that. Arcturus Black’s last wish had been for his grandson to be released from prison, a wish Lucius had been honour bound to see through the moment he was named Proxy for House Black. Hadrian had made it very clear that Lucius was to remain as Proxy until he was able to take the seat himself, or had another heir in line to take the votes. As King he couldn’t hold a seat on the Wizengamot, it was a conflict of interests.

“Thank you for your time Lord Malfoy, Lord Black wishes to be informed when Sirius’s case enters review by the DMLE.” Lucius gave a short bow of his head to Edric, and Lord Blackwell headed back to his home. There was much to be done, and too little time.

TBC


	8. Unchanged, Unchallenged, Unbelievable

Chapter Eight – Unchanged, Unchallenged, Unbelievable

The political side of the Wizarding world was often ignored and mostly kept between great Lords or those of political influence. The “common people” found little to no interest in it, besides their vote in any election or referendum. However, those deeply invested in the politics of their world were buzzing with both excitement and anxiety. Today, an heir came into influence and his choices today would forever define him in the eyes of the Wizengamot. It wasn’t often a young heir came into his own with such major powers like the Malfoy’s backing him.

Hadrian Potter-Davenport however, only felt fear. He had been preparing for this day since the moment he was named Lord Pollux’s heir. It had come faster than expected, faster than he had wanted it to. He wasn’t ready. With shaking hands he donned his over-robe – a neat, plain robe with the only embellishment in the fastening: The sigil of his house – and fastened it over a neat suit. The over-robe was thin, as advised by Edric, so that the Wizengamot robes could fit over them. Lucius and Edric had spent a great deal f time preparing him for the moment he entered the “heart of the ministry”. Though he would only be expected to name his proxy for House Black until he reached majority, he did have a say in the proceedings. Despite his young age and future titles, he could still have an opinion and his voice expressed – today was simply to ensure the rest of the House knew to look to another for the votes of house Black, and not simply pass over them altogether, as well as to ensure the Head of house that his Proxy could survive the high pressure and high stakes game that the Wizengamot truly was, and bring his represented house victory and good standing. Hadrian was confident with Lord Malfoy’s abilities in the House, he was just unsure of how well House Black would be represented. Malfoy’s had a way of using whatever was given to them for their own advantage – Hadrian hoped that Lucius had enough respect for his wife’s mother house not to use the extra votes for his own benefit.

Breakfast was silent, and Hadrian shook throughout it. He was afraid. There was no denying it. Hadrian had faced death and torture and the hands of his Uncle Vernon and been at peace with it, but this… this shook him to the core.

As they prepared to head out, Edric passed him a calming drought. The potion was consumed almost immediately, and Hadrian felt the calm pass through him, clearing his head.

“Are you ready now?” Edric wasn’t concerned, he was just asking a question. Commenting on the state of Hadrian’s emotions.  
“Yes.” A quick nod and Edric directed him to the fireplace.  
“Just floo into the Ministry Atrium and I will meet you there to take you to the Wizengamot chambers. Please don’t wander off.” Hadrian gave a glance back to Lepus, who was lingering in the doorway watching. He gave a shaky smile and a brief nod. His ward was just as nervous as he was.

“Hadrian. Look at me.” Edric gently tilted his head up to look him in the eye, and in a rare show of gentleness, brushed any loose hair out of his face. “You will be just fine Hadrian. I think you will do everyone proud today. And remember, all you have to do is state your intentions and name the Proxy, after that you can sit back and watch. Lucius is just as nervous as you today. You could destroy his reputation with the ruling today. Should you find him unacceptable, and name another instead, he won’t be looked on favourably for some time.”

Hadrian found it difficult to believe that Lucius Malfoy, the calm and domineering politician who always seemed to be in control, could possibly be just as concerned as him. But he didn't have time to concern himself with the particulars anymore. With a fortifying breath in, he stepped into the green flames and with a clear “Ministry of Magic” he was whisked away, fireplaces passing his vision too quickly for any distinction to be made.

Finally the falling sensation ended, and Hadrian exited the fireplace into a large obsidian room, a steady stream of ministry workers and visitors moving forwards and then dispersing into several different directions. A large golden statue – The Fountain of Magical Brethren – stood in the very heart of the atrium. As an ignored reminder of the other beings that populated their world, the statue stood almost in judgement of everyone who passed by. Hadrian moved to stand by it, to read the inscription that the makers had carved into the base of it.

“To the Ministry of Magic. May you never forget those who have placed their trust in you.  
Long Live The King”

The inscription was simple and unsigned, leaving the manufacturers anonymous, but their words struck a cord inside him. The Ministry of Magic had been given the trust of the people when they became the stewards of the wizarding world. A trust that had slowly and viciously been betrayed.

“I will fix this, I promise.” He whispered into the water. He would fix the bond that had been broken by the arrogance of wizardkind, and bring peace back to their relationships.

“I thought I might find you here.” Edric had snuck up behind him as he reminisced. “Come along.”

Hadrian followed Edric through the atrium and into a rather cramped elevator. A few paper airplanes floated near the ceiling, smashing into each other at odd intervals. Thankfully Edric and Hadrian had the elevator all to themselves as they went downwards, deeper into the ministry underbelly. When the doors opened to the Wizengamot Chambers, Hadrian was greeted with a blank hall of obsidian stone and a feeling of wrongness. Like there was something perverting the magic in the air around him. He had felt it slightly in the Atrium, but now it was almost overpowering.

“Can you feel that?” He turned to Edric as they made their way through.  
“Feel what?”  
“It feels wrong. Twisted.” Hadrian shuddered.  
“What?”  
“The Magic.” He had no time to elaborate, as the large doors that guarded the Wizengamot chambers opened and Hadrian was greeted with his first look at the Lords of the Wizengamot.

* * *

The Wizengamot was a large circular room with a gallery intended for an audience, as well as a circular and tiered platform divided into two sections by a large platform that extended outwards. Each seat on the tiered platform held a crest, carved into the wood on the back of the chair. Except for the seat intended for the Head of the Wizengamot. That chair held the seal of the ministry with a crown above it, representing the voice of the absent king. Behind the tiered seats and above the audience seating, the crest of the Royal Family, beside the King’s Seal was displayed – taking up a large portion of the wall. So that no matter who was inside the room, the reminder of whom they were to serve in place of was there, not to be forgotten.

The Wizengamot was slowly filing in when Hadrian entered the room. Edric directed him to step up to the Lord’s Seats and take his own chair, while Edric took a seat in the audience, close to the door. This was a closed session, meaning that there was to be no public or journalists in attendance, only Edric as the legal guardian of an acting Lord. Past today, only Hadrian would be allowed to sit in on a closed session, regardless of there being a proxy in place. It was his right as named Lord Black.

After a moment of the more experienced Lord’s and Ladies greeting each other after the long recess the Wizengamot took, the meeting began. Edric noticed almost immediately that Albus Dumbledore was absent, and made a note to inquire as to the usual Heads whereabouts. Lady Amelia Bones stepped up to take the position of Head of Court.

“I thank you for joining us this afternoon, Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot. As acting Chief Warlock I, Lady Amelia Bones, declare the first meeting of the Wizengamot, on this day the thirteenth of January Nineteen-Ninety Two, now in session. The first item on the docket is the welcome of a new Lord Black.” All eyes turned to Hadrian, taking up the seat of House Black. Hadrian stood, blank faced and almost bored of his surroundings. Only Edric (and Lucius) noticed the faint tremors in his hands at the attention.

“As a member of the Wizengamot you are entitled to one vote as an acting Lord of your House. As an underage wizard, you also have the right to a Proxy until you come of age and can manage all your titles accordingly. State your business for this body.”

“I, Lord Hadrian Black, name Lord Lucius Malfoy as Proxy for the Black Family, until I have come of age or mine heir is of an age to take the title.” There was an uneasy shifting, like the entire seated body knew what the implications of Lucius Malfoy having two votes were. The damage he could do. Hadrian understood that, he had understood the notion of Lucius Malfoy using his votes to pursue the agenda of anti-muggleborn sentiments, and had decided – without Edric’s advice – to monitor Lucius’ freedoms. While Edric was willing to put faith in Lucius’ connection to Hadrian’s father, Hadrian was not. While it would break good faith between House Black and House Malfoy to remove Lucius from the position of Proxy, it was entirely permissible for certain stipulations to be placed on the Proxy. For example, any anti-muggleborn or Creature Rights bills or were not to be voted on by House Black without consulting the rightful Lord of the House, and should he attempt to vote without consultation or against advisement Lucius would be given even tighter restrictions on how he could use the Proxy votes. Hadrian had done his research into the Malfoy political history – with a few gaps in what books and tutors were able to provide – in order to decide how to manage his Proxy.

The head of House Black controlled Lucius Malfoy’s freedoms regarding the Black votes, but the rest of the Wizengamot didn't need to know that.

Hadrian was content to sit back and watch the proceedings under the guise of monitoring Lucius.

“Very well, I call this body to order and open the floor.” A gavel was smacked and the first proposal stood to make her point.

“Ladies and Lords, I stand before you today to propose a change in the way we handle Muggleborns.” Hadrian braced himself for discrimination, a bill to segregate them from schools and stores. “I believe we haven’t done enough to make them welcome in our world. They are held back at every opportunity simply because of their blood status. No muggleborn Ministers for Magic, or high ranking withing this very office that protects them? I do believe we are still living in prejudice and blindness. In order to welcome new Witces and Wizards into this world, we must accommodate them, more today than in the past.”

“Have you gone mad?!”  
“Not done enough my arse.”  
“Has this witch lost her sanity?”  
“Making exemptions for muggleborns. They don’t know our ways.” The hall was in an uproar. Even Hadrian was shocked by the proposal. He understood the need to introduce the muggleborns to their world, and respectfully open the doors for them to add to the collective magic, but they were not above the rules that governed the populous. They should be expected to learn the ways of the society they were entering and then conform to the laws and practices – making improvements and changes that befitted everyone. Much like they would if they moved to a different country.

During the uproar, Lucius took a stand – gracefully and almost without effort silencing the din.  
“Ms. Pinley. You are, if I am correct, a halfblood?” He began, masterfully tearing away any indication that she could be a muggleborn trying to gain a position inside the ministry. Or even someone who genuinely didn't know anything about the world she had – for al intents and purposes – immigrated to.  
“I don’t see what that has to do with anything?”  
“It does, actually. It helps me gauge how much you know about our world, how much you were taught. As a Halfblood growing up in our community, did you grow up with a bright Yule Log aflame in your hearth? A week long celebration of our history and of magic, filled with stories and songs?”

“I celebrate Christmas, as all of us should. Why?”

“Because, Ms. Pinley, that tells me you have never felt your magic rejuvenate in the new year and grow stronger. You have never felt the strain on your core weaken and fade, nor the feeling of security as the last night of Yule ends. Our traditions and celebrations are not done because of history, but because they serve a purpose. Our traditions are giving strength to magic and feeding the great well from which our power comes. To dispose of these traditions would not only destroy our culture, but change how magic is performed on a daily basis. Something I’m sure, even a Halfblood would be fiercely protective over.” Lucius statement was well argued no one could deny that. Though only a few old families still practiced celebrations like Yule and Samhain, and fewer still Mabon and Beltane, there was enough to keep a relative balance in power. If these practices were dissolved, magic would be unable to function without the rejuvenation it did each year. Magic may not be a sentient force in the world, able to make conscious decisions and speak, but it was aware and able to move without direct interference. And the fear of losing their connection and ability with magic was a primal one for all Wizardkind.

“I do agree with Lord Malfoy, and motion to discard this poorly contrived notion. We are wizards and we must protect ourselves. If we lose our culture and grow to fear practices that strengthen our power, then we have lost the purpose of separating from the Muggle world.” An older Wizard with a long beard and deep red robes stood, making the first motion of the session. Ms. Pinley looked like she had swallowed a lemon at the notion that her quest for a more muggleborn friendly world was being denied.

“Now, now, let us not be too hasty.” A younger woman countered, her face contorted in a way that anyone would find disagreeable. “I do not believe Ms. Pinleys intentions were malicious in nature, simply desperate for a more equal world. Even you, Lord Malfoy, cannot deny that we are more biased towards a pureblood or a halfblood when appointing ministry positions or hiring Healers, or Aurors. The most muggleborns can hope for is to marry into a decent family and give their children opportunities. I motion to increase the quota for muggleborns in ministry positions and have thorough investigations throughout the ministry and St. Mungos for discrimination against muggleborns.”

“And what would you do to places that have four muggleborns on staff, but none in higher up positions? Should St. Mungos make inadequate healers heads of departments to meet a quota? Should those incapable of necessary skills that file papers for aurors and unspeakables be forced into field work or active experimentation simply because they are seen as disadvantaged? I fear this proposal would endanger the safety of the public more than benefit the rights of muggleborns.” The elderly wizard spoke up again.

And on and on it went.

* * *

“So what was decided?” Lepus asked, his head dangling off the edge of his bed and feet in the air. Hadrian had returned home, exhausted both physically and mentally, but his mind was unable to stop thinking. He had seen the ministry for the first time today, and he had seen the way important issues were handled. He didn't like it. Petty issues were discussed like they were serious matters, and the serious matters were laid to the wayside and very rarely was a decision made.

Over the course of two hours, more argument was made that the muggleborns should be pandered to and allowed to change their culture than whether or not the preservation of magical creatures or the treaties between wizard and goblin should be a priority. The Lords of the Wizengamot were like school children, pettily arguing over who’s team had more supporters or had justification in their actions. The Wizengamot was visibly divided.

“They didn't decide. Not properly anyway. The Chief Warlock removed the issue from the room and nothing was decided. Nothing changed.” And that was what bothered him the most. Nothing had changed. The last visible and long lasting change that benefitted the wizarding world was in 1707, when King Aloysius Devon disbanded the Wizards Council and instituted the Ministry of Magic. A move his descendants would regret, as barely twenty years later, following the death of Aloysius, the current Minister began to grow impatient with the crown and officially took power after the death of his son, Alexander. But since then, nothing had changed the way the world functioned. Besides Grindlewald creating a fear of “dark magic”, and Voldemort instilling a fear of “dark” creatures, the wizarding world was stuck. Unmoving and static.

“So what happened next?” Lepus had righted himself on the bed and was now staring at Hadrian with a look of concern.  
“Not much. The Lords discussed what trade deals were less than spectacular, what the ministry needs to focus on in the next few months, boring things that didn’t really mean very much.” Hadrian was growing bored with the conversation, like he had during the actual meeting. As a young player in the Great Game he should have been at least a little excited and awed to see what those in power were doing. Not bored to tears and frustrated with the lack of care the lords showed about the people they were responsible for.

“So what did you do?” Lepus groaned and flopped backwards, his body splayed out over the bed like a human pancake. Lepus had been in lessons from one-o’clock until four, ruthlessly being caught up to speed by Drummond Prince and Narcissa Malfoy. They had agreed to tutor him until he was caught up with the second years, and had immediately taken to it with an almost sadistic glee. Hadrian laughed, knowing full well what lessons were like with those two constantly hounding him.

“Don’t laugh yet, little Prince. Drummond told me to remind you of the rescheduled fencing lessons.” The reminder stopped the laughing almost instantly. Hadrian had been dreading those lessons since they had first been conceptualised. But he hadn’t lost the battle with Lepus yet.

“Well, you do have lessons with Edric tomorrow. Don’t forget that?” He shot back.  
“Please. We all know Edric’s a big softie.” Lepus tried to play it off like the lessons were inconsequential, but Hadrian could see the worried glint in his eye.  
“Course he is.” Was all Hadrian would give him. The wicked gleam of mischief made Lepus gulp in slight trepidation.

“So whats next for you then? I have Hogwarts coming up, but in the meantime…”  
“I’m not so sure I want to go to Hogwarts. I mean, I think it would be amazing, but I just don’t think they could teach me everything I want to know. And there isn’t exactly a class called ‘Ruling Avalon 101’.”  
“There might be.” Lepus countered. “And think about all the people you’d meet.” Hadrian not going to Hogwarts with Lepus was tantamount to sinning. They may not be best friends, but they were family. The first he’d ever had really. Hadrian gave him a flat look, knowing where Lepus was going.

“There isn’t. I’ve checked. And a king is supposed to be impartial. Above the ‘common people’, somebody people wouldn’t be able to say ‘I went to school with him, he was kind of alright’. It’s… I read it in a book somewhere about the relationship between government and crown in the muggle world. Edric bought it for me.” Hadrian’s mind was drifting.

“The crown is the dignified and the government the efficient.” Lepus recited. “I read it too.”  
“Why?” Hadrian was genuinely puzzled. Nobody read the books on governance or politics that Edric gave to Hadrian for his lessons. They were really only used for references from which to draw lesson plans, or for Hadrian to set aside for later, but he read them dutifully and with enthusiasm.

“I wanted to know what I had to catch up to. I couldn’t understand much at all.” Truthfully neither could Hadrian. But he wanted to be able to. He wanted to be someone the country could be proud of.

“You didn’t have to.” Hadrian was quite touched that Lepus went through the trouble of reading his books in order to be a little bit closer to them.  
“S’alright.” Lepus mumbled, his ears turning a faint shade of pink. And in a move to distract his ‘guardian’ from his embarrassment he hastily suggested a game of wizard’s chess. Only to groan when Hadrian readily agreed, the mischievous glint back in his eyes.

Hadrian trussed him thoroughly.

* * *

Albus was growing increasingly concerned with the behaviour of Edric Blackwell. First he had removed Harry from his home at Privet Drive, then introduced him to the pureblood socialites that were difficult to control. Not only did the boy have a tutor in the late Pollux Black, but also a friendship with the Malfoy boy – if rumours were anything to go on. Harry didn’t fear or hate the Dark Arts, as he should have been taught to, nor did he resent the purebloods as he may have grown to had he followed the plan!

The law, however, was on Edric Blackwells side. He was the last guardian available to the boy according to his parent wills. He, legally, couldn’t be removed from the home unless…

He had received reports of Lucius Malfoy taking up an unhealthy interest in Sirius Black. The man may have a large amount of influence with the Ministry but Albus had power. Something Lucius had only ever felt a mere taste of.

Remus Lupin couldn’t take Harry Potter in for obvious reasons, but Sirius Black? Well that was a whole different story. And in order to get an appeal trial for a Prisoner in Azkaban, they needed someone with ministry support to whisper in the right ears. Unless of course you were the one with the power in the first place. And make no mistake, Albus held the power. Cornelius just did a nice job keeping the public face.

If Sirius Black were to suddenly reclaim the Lordship from the Proxy of Lucius Malfoy – a true Black and the last pureblood heir of the family – then he would be granted custody rights over his godson. And if he were to hand the Black proxy over to Albus while he recovered from Azkaban, then maybe things would be back on track. Potter in one hand, Black in another, and the wizarding world back on track for the changes that needed to be made. He had read the transcripts of the last Wizengamot meeting, without him due to some unfortunate business with the goblins, and it was obvious that some were trying to run before they could walk. Key example being Ms. Pinley, a secretary in the Muggleborn Affairs office. She had been doing a good thing, no doubt just as passionate about equality as Albus himself. But she lacked finesse and a strong mind to guide her in the right direction. With Albus pulling the strings and a fair amount of votes, she might have gotten her way.

Unfortunate what had happened though, losing her job because of her beliefs and her passion. He had made her an offer to be the new Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts for the New Year. She would do very well while Professor Burbage was on sabbatical; it wasn’t like she would be doing anything too important or difficult to control. And she would make a decent sized change to the curriculum to make the subject more… muggle. Charity wouldn’t mind. She had put the position in his hands, and a few well-placed words of sorrow about new ministry policy would soften her right up. Not to mention rouse her ire at Blood supremacists that would look down on her beloved subject because of ministry enforced changed.

Perhaps things would be on the right track after all.

* * *

Life continued as usual for Hadrian. His lessons were a healthy mix of magic and muggle subjects, as well as Politics and Etiquette, with a few rudimentary fencing and swordsmanship lessons. He quite enjoyed those lessons. Drummond had taken him quite far in the past few months, but his age was catching up to him and he was forced to take a step back from the proceedings. A new teacher was still being looked for, but very few were willing to risk public opinion due to their knowledge of, what was now called “blood sports”.

But no matter what Hadrian could see that there was something Edric was keeping from him. He hated it. Being kept in the dark on something important to his future, and Edric was keeping a great deal of secrets. Just the day before, in fact, he had run from the library, pale as a ghost and slightly shaky. He had been muttering something about cover-ups and ministry sanctioned something or others. He had been rattled. Lepus had noticed and kept his distance, the two were let off lessons for the day while Edric and Malfoy spent hours in his study. Lepus had been worried at first that he had overstayed his welcome, and was beginning to take a negative toll on his host. Hadrian had quickly dissuaded him of that notion.

But he was noticing things now. Slight things he had never noticed months prior. He had always been an observant child, growing up with the Dursleys he’d had to be. But it was like his magic had enhanced those senses a tenfold, warning him that something was wrong. Ever since that day in the Ministry, the feeling of wrongness had sat with him.

It all came to a head, when Lucius Malfoy came charging through the floo and went straight towards Edric’s study, one day out of nowhere. The only thing he could hear was: “We have a problem Blackwell” before the door was shut in his face.

Perhaps it was time he did some digging of his own. Lepus would help him, though would complain constantly and bemoan his (hesitant) friend’s love of research, and finding others who knew about his family was made easier simply by the fact of who he was. He needed to know what it was that made him so special, that made him King. Edric hadn’t explained it all, and what he had was unclear and difficult to wrap his head around. And besides, every great King was known for his tight-knit group of friends and advisors, King Arthur being the most well known. Perhaps it was time he met some of Draco’s friends.

**TBC**


	9. Uncertain Proceedings

Chapter 9: Uncertain Proceedings

Azkaban was just as cramped and dark as Dumbledore last remembered it. He had been here only once before, looking into the huddled mass of rags and grime that was Severus Snape – arrested for crimes as a Death Eater. He had needed to see the boy brought low by his own actions before he decided to help him. Lucius Malfoy had beaten him to it though, taking his friend out of the cramped cell and into a life of luxury. He had lost a valuable ally that day, he would not allow Lucius to do that a second time.

Sirius Black’s cell was small and dark, tucked away in the corner. He was reading a newspaper, sitting still and focussed on his task. The turning of the pages was too deliberate for the man to simply be acting mechanically. He was sane. And that frightened Albus more than it should have.

“Hello Sirius my boy.” He began, trying to sound heartbroken at the sight of the boy in a man’s body. Sirius startled and turned to see who had addressed him. The light must have been playing tricks because Albus thought he saw a flicker of disappointment, but that couldn’t be.

“Headmaster?”  
“Albus, my boy, please.”  
“Why are you here?”

“I heard that you were receiving visitors now and I wondered when the ban had been lifted. I have been so desperate to see you my boy.” Sirius only stared at him blankly, trying to process.

“There never was a ban Headmaster. I have been receiving visitors for almost a year now. And letters before that. Granted they were howlers let in by the guards, but still.” Albus allowed a frown to flit over his face. That shouldn’t have been possible he had ensured Sirius would be forgotten about inside the prison himself. “I was confused too, especially when Lucius Malfoy first started turning up.”

“Lucius, yes. I am surprised at you, accepting such a dark influence into your life. Especially considering what he had a hand in.” A faraway look came into Sirius’ eyes at the insinuation of Lucius’ affiliations. A little nudge then. “What with James and Lily’s death, and little Harry-”

“DON’T YOU TALK ABOUT THEM! DON’T YOU TALK ABOUT HARRY!” He was in a rage, eyes wild with madness. Perhaps he hadn’t been unaffected by Azkaban, one couldn’t spend years in the presence of Dementors and not lose a little bit of sanity.

“I apologise. But I fear the influence Lucius has on you, especially in your vulnerable state.” Sirius turned his back to him.  
“I want you to leave, Lucius will be visiting shortly. He has news about Harry.” With nothing left to do but obey the prisoner, Albus left the prison seething. A more drastic approach would have to be taken.

Not two hours later, having apparated from the shores across from Azkaban directly to the ministry, was a court date set for the trial of Sirius Black. Albus couldn’t help but smirk at the expression of Lucius’ face at the news. He was ahead of the game and he intended to stay there.

* * *

When word came out that notorious mass murderer Sirius Black was being given a full trial, backed by the support of Albus Dumbledore, the world was thrown into chaos. Edric was positively murderous, and Lucius was seething. Hadrian didn't quite understand why, but was quick to realize the amount of damage this could do when it was revealed that Sirius was his godfather. He could be taken from Blackwell Hall and given into the custody of his godfather without his consent.

He had realized the danger Dumbledore posed very early on in his new life, mostly through the knowledge that it had been the old headmaster that had placed him with the Dursleys in the first place. But he had never suspected how dangerously close he was to losing his new family. Had he met Sirius under normal circumstances he might have accepted him into his private little family. But with the threat of being taken away from the man who had become like a father to him, Hadrian’s idea of his godfather was someone who was a threat to his happiness. Not only could Hadrian be relocated, but so could Lepus. Both of them could be separated and placed with people firmly in Dumbledore’s grasp.

This was the reason behind Edric calling Hadrian in to office in the middle of the afternoon. A special - emergency - portkey had been arranged for Hadrian use should the worst happen. It was unregistered and the very existence of it was worth five months in Azkaban. But in this situation, five months was the least of their problems. Edric would be lucky if he wasn't charged with sedition and had his magic taken from him. The portkey was small and very easily hidden inside

“This will take you to Malfoy Manor. Lucius has agreed to protect you from the ministry and Dumbledore. I have named him your legal guardian as your uncle. That will keep you out of Sirius’ custody and away from Dumbledore’s hands.”

“What about you?”

“Don't worry about me. When you are king it will not matter.”

“How can you say that?”

“All that matters is keeping you out of the ministries hands and away from the headmaster.” Edric took Hadrian’s hands in his and held on tight. “You are far more important to us than you realize Hadrian.”

“I'm not.” For a moment he felt lost. He had been a part of this magnificent world for only a year now and he still understood very little about it. He knew his position as both celebrity and prince were important to the people he had joined, but he didn't quite understand the true significance of it. He knew that his power and strength would grow the magic and strength of both wizards and creatures, and that his choices and decisions held deeper and farther reaching consequences, but in truth he knew very little about his people and their wants and needs.

“I can't do this without you.” He all but whispered, ashamed to even look into his pseudo-father’s eyes.

“I don't believe that. You have Lucius and Drummond to help you. And your instincts. Always trust your instincts. But this,” he slid the portkey into Hadrian’s hand, “is only for worst of circumstances. You may never have to use it.” At Hadrian’s slight nod, he separated and stood. “Good. Now back to lessons.”

Hadrian retreated from the study, a whirlwind of thought. He returned to the library with the intent to discover the truth behind his titles. Something he had (sadly) never thought to do before. The books he began with were mostly from the last century, almost a decade after the ministry had become the main political power, where after more and more books emerged with ministry seals of approval. As Hadrian combed through the older books and cracked open the tomes, he began to realize just how much the “ministry approved” books had altered or left out entirely from the history of the monarchy. Clues about the secret “power of kings” as well as the city of Camelot. Some said the city floated high above England as a conduit for the wards that protected the wizarding communities. Hadrian had to snort at that, the sheer amount of magic needed to keep the city floating was impossible and would sooner kill off the entire population of wizards by the draw it would have, than be kept afloat. Others theorized that the city had been amalgamated into muggle London when the muggles began to build. Another preposterous theory, but the city was still gone. Wiped from the memories of the people and turned into a legend.

“A whole city can’t have just vanished.” It couldn’t have been as easy as a notice-me-not spell or an obliviate. Whatever had been done to hide Camalot was an ancient and powerful magic, and Hadrian was determined to figure it out. He returned to the books. The older the tomes the more he learned about the culture of the monarchy, and the continuous mention of the Scepters of the King – Ancient artifacts lost to time – which when brought together would allow the wielder “a power like none before”. Hadrian committed them to the back of his mind, as none of the books he delved into could name them. Without a name they were impossible to find.

As the day progressed Hadrian became buried under large piles of books and his mind soaked in everything it could about the kingdoms of old and the stories of Arthur and his knights. Malfoy’s birthday was in June – almost two months away now – and he expected an invite. As Lucius was a confidant of Edric, Hadrian hoped Draco would be the same for him – minus the desperation for power and the lurking suspicion that he had been a willing Death Eater. With the thought of Draco came the reminder of Hogwarts. Lepus would be leaving for the school come fall and Hadrian would either go with him or remain behind. Hogwarts presented a unique opportunity to become close to people of his own age group and cultivate alliances with powerful families, people he would need the support from were he to forcefully retake his kingdom. But Hogwarts also meant Dumbledore and Hadrian wasn’t prepared to put himself so close to the man that was openly working against him. It had already been decided, Hadrian realized suddenly, _‘Edric already decided that I won’t be going to Hogwarts. He practically told me when he gave me the portkey’_. Angry that yet another choice had been taken from him, he slammed the books shut and went in search of the training room to blow off steam.

* * *

 

Albus had never like Lupin, even as a child he found him to be weak willed and pathetic. As a grown man he seemed even more so. But he was a werewolf and that alone made him valuable to The Cause and easy to control. Werewolves generally joined with the Dark Lords and acted as soldiers, Lupin had been able to get inside during the last war and sow the seeds of dissention. Now he was needed as a friend and confidant of the next person who threatened Albus’. Remus Lupin had been acting as a tutor for the last years, trying to keep himself afloat with no money and no means to legally acquire a well paying job. There was plenty of illegal work for werewolves or those on the ministries restricted list, but Remus was too softhearted and weak to do them. He was perfect for what Albus had planned.

He knocked on the doors of the cottage Remus had been allowed to use since the death of the Potter’s he paid a monthly rent to Albus in exchange for it, completely unaware that his late friends had gifted it to him.  
“Albus… Come in, come in.” The man hadn’t aged well from what Albus could see. His hair was greying at an alarming rate and fresh scars had appeared since the last visit. Albus entered the cottage, examining how bare it seemed to be. Lupin had very little in terms of possessions. The cottage was clean though, and it seemed to be a home to the man.

“Tea?” Albus nodded and took a seat with a grandfatherly smile, inwardly sneering. Lupin moved through the cottage quickly and prepared a tray of tea, and the few biscuits he had left. Once he had seated himself Albus began;

“I have come to inform you that Sirius Black is to be given a trial, and released into my care.” He took satisfaction in watching as the teacup – barely sipped – clattered to the ground and shattered on impact.  
“No.” Lupin whispered, eyes wide, refusing to believe his headmaster’s news. “Why?”

“It is true. As to why… I believe Harry is in grave danger.” Albus watched as that sunk in. No doubt Lupin hadn’t thought of Harry Potter in years.  
“If you let _him_ loose, then he will be. Sirius Black is a madman and a traitor. He will kill the boy.” Black’s apparent betrayal had hit Lupin hard; he had been the man’s mate after all – though unclaimed and unrealised for both parties.

“Unfortunately evidence has come to light that paints Sirius as the innocent party in both the deaths of James and Lily, and the twelve muggles that were murdered upon the arrest.” He still had no evidence that Sirius hadn’t committed the murders, but upon his insistence of innocence Sirius Black would walk free, or at least apparently. The power of a life debt could tie him irrevocably to the man that had secured his release. An indentured servant of a sort.

“Why?”  
“Harry Potter has found himself in the presence of Dark Wizards. He is being taught by them, raised by them. Lucius Malfoy sits as a Proxy for the Black family and has unrestricted access to him. I fear they are attempting to convert him to the side of Voldemort.” Lupin looked downright sick now, pale and sweating.

“What would you have me do?”  
“The man who has stolen guardianship of Harry will try to keep him from Hogwarts. This means that he will require tutors for the boy. I hope that you will, as a connection to his past, become a part of the child’s life and lead him onto the path of the light.” Lupin only nodded, mind spinning. He would do his best to gain the favour of both Edric and Harry, of that Albus had no doubt. The hard part would be convincing him to steal Harry out of Blackwell Hall when the time came.

“Thank you, Albus, for telling me.” Albus took that as his cue to leave and stood.  
“It is a pleasure to see you Remus, always.” With that parting pleasantry Albus left, the seeds successfully planted inside his mind. He missed the look of utter contempt thrown at his back as he apparated away. Remus Lupin may have been a werewolf and a pacifist, but he wasn’t a fool. And a werewolf could smell the lies off a person a mile away, granted Albus was better than the average liar, but even he couldn’t suppress the tells that were ingrained into his body.

* * *

The courtroom was packed full of reporters, protestors, and a public audience. The trial of Sirius Black was a media frenzy, everyone was desperate to see the man who had murdered Lily and James Potter properly imprisoned – for at least their conscience would be cleared. Other wished Sirius free so that they could kill him themselves. Hadrian and Edric had seated themselves in the front row to watch the proceedings, so that Sirius would have Hadrian’s eyes on his back the entire time, daring him to lie. The trial was happening sooner than they had expected, and frankly been prepared for. Albus Dumbledore was presiding over the court today, but had no doubt hired the second best barrister available – the best of was a personal friend of Lucius’ and would never have worked for Albus Dumbledore due to many instances of bad blood. Sirius Black would walk free today, due to the meddling of the old fool, Edric was sure of that. Not even Lucius could halt or postpone the proceedings now.

“Bring in the accused.” Sirius Black was half dragged into the courtroom and restrained in the chair that had bound so many others, guilty criminals and innocent victims alike. He was wild and vicious in his curses and mutterings, thrashing against the bindings like an animal. Above them in the seat of the Chief Warlock, Albus Dumbledore fidgeted.

“Sirius Black, you stand accused of the murder of twelve muggles, the betrayal of Lily and James Potter leading to their deaths at the hands of You-Know-Who, and serving as a death eater. How do you plead?” Dumbledore began.

“Not standing. Sitting.” Black muttered, spitting at the aurors that guarded the audience and the exits. “Guilty. Guilty! Guilty!” The audience roared in anger and in righteous defence of their hero’s. Hadrian looked down, suppressing tears.

“Guilty of all charges?”

“Killed James. Killed him and Lily and little Harry. Killed them. I should never have switched. Never should have suggested. _Wormtail_!” He roared, mixed with insane tear-filled mutterings.  
“Never should have suggested what?” Albus hedged.

“Peter. Never should have suggested Pettigrew. He betrayed them, but I as good as killed them. I’m guilty.” The courtroom was silent. Every wizard and witch was listening with rapt attention. They didn’t quite understand, but there were a few who sat on the Wizengamot that did and felt a sinking feeling in the pit of their stomachs.

“Mr. Black. Your council has suggested the use of veritaserum to find the truth in all of this. Is this amenable to you?” Edric cursed under his breath. Albus knew that a prisoner from Azkaban had no ability to decide for themselves, especially after ten years of constant exposure to the dementors.

“Betrayed Jamie. Betrayed him and lost little Harry. Good as killed them. My fault, all my fault. Should have died.” Sirius’ insane ramblings did nothing to answer any of the questions posed to him, prompting Albus to wave the registered Potions Master on duty forward, a vial of veritaserum clutched in his hands. There was something off about it, Hadrian noted. The colour should have been so clear the vial could be mistaken for empty, instead he could see a faint swirl of colour inside, like dust particles caught in a beam of light.

“It’s not right. That isn’t Veritaserum Edric.” He whispered to his guardian.  
“I know. I noticed it too.” He was angry, barely suppressing his urge to scream at the injustice and gross malpractice going on before his eyes. But with Albus Dumbledore presiding he would only be mistaken as a violent protestor and thrown from the room.

The serum was administered and Sirius’ mad ramblings halted and he slumped as far forwards in the chair his restraints would allow. A daze had come over him.

“Did you betray Lily and James Potter to You-Know-Who?”  
“No.” The courthouse began muttering, but the banging of the gavel brought it to a swift end.

“Did you murder twelve muggles upon your arrest.”  
“No.” There was an uneasy shifting in both the audience bench and the seated members of the Wizengamot.

“Are you Sirius Orion Black, heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black?”  
“No.” The crowd roared, forcing Albus to shout above the racket.

“Explain!”  
“I was disinherited from the house of Black. I can hold no claim to the lordship beyond that of my offspring.” Even Edric saw Albus pale. There was nothing he could do to claim the lordship seats through Black, only Hadrian had the power to rename the Proxy.

“We will no adjourn for a vote of the Wizengamot members. Court will resume once the decision has been decided on. The decision relies on a majority vote to free Sirius Black, or condemn him.”

* * *

 

 _“A majority vote!”_ Hadrian was enraged at the state of the justice system. “That’s it. So if more people like you or have stakes in you, you can just walk free? Regardless of what crime you’ve committed? No wonder a state of emergency was declared during the first war.” He was right to be angry – many an undeserving wizard had walked free. Hadrian was already planning a new justice system for his people. Those in power couldn’t be counted on to not tamper in things beyond their jurisdiction.

“It is the way things have been done since the first days of the ministry…” Edric tried to reason, explain why this was how the ministry did things, but Hadrian would not allow himself to be talked down to.  
“But what about the Kings Justice?” He snapped, anger coursing through him

“The King’s Justice was old in Arthurs time. The idea that the King can execute whoever he pleases in the name of justice is an outdated concept – not justice.”  
“ _And that is?_ _"_  he practically shrieked “That is not justice. It’s a popularity contest!” He had to take a few deep breaths to steady himself and keep his magic from accidentally reacting. He hadn’t had a major outbreak of accidental magic in ages and he wasn’t too keen on it happening in the middle of the Ministry.

“Hadrian, you cannot fix everything. This world will keep spinning and the Lords will keep grasping for more power than they can sometimes handle. That is just the way of the world. Perhaps when you have established yourself as a ruler – and the kind of ruler you are – then you can begin to make changes. Kingship isn’t just about being able to do whatever you want. It’s also about doing what’s best.” Hadrian knew that there was truth to Edric’s words, but he could help but feel cheated. That him becoming the King would benefit others with power than the majority without it. Sometimes he feared that Edric was using him as a way to move up in the world, to shape the system.

“Maybe.” He would let it pass for now, but later he would revisit the issue. He was certain though, that this pageant of a justice system would be the first thing to go.

The rest of the break was spent mingling with a few ministry workers and lords, getting a feel for the people that held positions of power and would be important to have on his side. Edric met up with a few old friends and made introductions so that Hadrian knew he was being talked about and was wel known. When the break was over he felt a pit of dread grow in his stomach. Now either a possibly innocent man would be returned to Azkaban, or Dumbledore would gain the advantage. Hadrian wasn’t entirely sure about which was worse.

“The Wizengamot has made its ruling.” Hadrian held his breath. “Sirius Black is found innocent and will be freed immediately. His vaults will be returned to him and a fee of one hundred thousand galleons will be paid as reimbursement for his time lost. The ministry will also issue you an apology for the mistake we made.” Dumbledore announced from his seat. Hadrian noticed that he looked angry for some reason.

“We have also placed the stipulation that you shall be housed in St. Mungos hospital to treat your malnutrition and until a certified Mind Healer has signed off on your mental well-being.” So that was it. Perhaps he wasn’t as in control as he had thought he was and the upper hand was still held by Edric. Hadrian allowed himself to breath a little.

“A custody trial will be scheduled for a years time to review the guardianship of Harry Potter and place him where his parents wished him to go, Mr. Black’s health permitting.” And with that closing statement the trial came to an end and the court immediately began to disperse. Hadrian was frozen in place. He had a year to work out how he would stay with Edric at Blackwell Hall. Edric had a year to plan his ascension to the throne. Once the year was up it was a fair assumption that Sirius would be granted custody and Hadrian would be placed directly under Dumbledore’s influence.

“Come it’s time to go home.” Edric held out his hand for Hadrian to follow him. As they made their way out of the ministry Hadrian once again looked to the Statue of Magical Brethren and silently promised to change the wizarding world for the better. 

* * *

 

Lucius cornered Edric as soon as they arrived in Blackwell Hall, Hadrian had been sent to change out of his good robes and into something more comfortable for their defense lessons. Lucius looked well considering their enemies had freed Sirius before them. He was irked that Dumbledore was to thank for that, but the deed had been accomplished either way.

“What is it?” Edric demanded, safely ensconced in his private study.  
“Sirius Black was found innocent by the skin of his teeth, most only agreed to release him because of Dumbledore’s influence. He has been placed into Dumbledore’s custody upon release of St. Mungos and the custody trial in one year’s time will be little more than a farce to appease public opinion. Fudge is growing restless. He wants Harry Potter out of the picture as quickly as possible and Dumbledore is egging him on. Neither of them wants to see the monarchy rise again, Fudge will lose his power inside the wizarding world and Dumbledore will lose his influence and any progress he’s made in eradicating the pureblood culture. Hadrian is in more danger than he realizes.” It was troubling news, but not unsurprising.

“I have given Hadrian a portkey that will take him to Malfoy Manor should the worst happen, as we agreed. But I must ask… why are you helping us and not playing all the sides?”  
“Hadrian is my future king, and he is my brothers only son. He is blood and I will not see Thaddeus Malfoy be forgotten.” Edric smiled at his confidant. Lucius may have revealed more than he would have liked to, but he couldn’t help but want to stay in the trust of Edric Blackwell. He was the closest to Hadrian and could keep his nephew from him.

“What would you do to protect him?” Lucius hesitated at the question. He wasn’t sure if this was where Edric made him swear loyalty to Hadrian, or where he barred Lucius from seeing his nephew.  
“He is family. And I will do everything to protect my family.” Edric hummed noncommittally. Lucius always had his own agenda and it was never clear whom he was working for. He had given Lucius a great deal of power and opportunity to abuse it, but so far he had only done as the late Pollux Black had commanded, and what would help them in the long run. Lucius had been the one to suggest a portkey. There was no reason to doubt his sincerity yet, but Lucius had always been one to surprise people.

“I had a feeling Dumbledore would try and force the issue of custody. I was named in the wills of Lily and James Potter I am sure of it. But I am only the steward, and with Black free his claim trumps mine.”  
“Prior to the trial I advised Sirius to pretend to be mad. He agreed that a year more imprisonment inside St. Mungos was better than Dumbledore having his sticky fingers in Hadrian’s future. A year gives us time to plan things further. I have no intention of allowing the coronation and ascension of our prince to be delayed or cancelled. Albus Dumbledore has had reign over our world for too long.” Lucius revealed.

“Then we are in agreement? Hadrian _will_ be king, even if we have to dirty our hands in the process. For the good of the world.”

“Yes. Hadrian _must_ take the throne.”

TBC

* * *

 

A/N: I'm so sorry this took forever to get up. Quick life update, I have since started Film School and it has been so time consuming. I am actually doing Post production on my first short film right now so it's been stressful and that's why. I have actually been writing, but it's not an update :( . I know, Kill me. But I'm at 10,000 words on a short Snape/Harry fic that I'm slowly working through. It's only going to be about 10 chapters, but it's full of Daddy!Harry fluff (he adopts Teddy after the war). I've been feeling the need for more of the domestic Harry stuff and my love for Snarry has been all consuming. Hopefully I can get that up soon. 

I have actually been working on the next chapter for BoS, but it's slow going. I'm trying to get a Facebook Page up so that I can keep you guys updated and if there's any questions you can find me there - but stupid Facebook isn't accepting any of the names I'm submitting. I don't know how to set up a nickname so I don't know... I'll figure it out.

But anyway, enough blabbing. I hope you all enjoyed this, and I'm sorry this took so long.

DNStalker.


	10. Interlude - A Vacation

Chapter 10: An Interlude

Hadrian was hiding from his tutors. Edric had been looking for him for nearly an hour now, but not even Lepus was willing to give up the boys’ location. Drummond had snapped at him for allowing the poor behaviour to continue, and Lucius had dragged him away to discuss their strategy to put Hadrian on the throne and Dumbledore floo called him to demand that Hadrian attend Hogwarts – that it was what his godfather wanted. Edric had never been pulled so many directions at once all for the expense of an eleven-year-old boy. And perhaps that was why Hadrian was hiding. He had been pulled in several different directions since his arrival at Blackwell Hall and he hadn’t had the opportunity to make the same choices as other children. From the start he had been handed a list of demands and expectations by Edric himself, then given lessons and forced to consume so much information Edric often wondered how he kept it all straight.

“I don’t see why you are encouraging this arrogant behaviour. He won’t learn anything if you keep catering to his every whim.” Drummond sniped. Edric couldn’t take it anymore and he burst out,

“He is a child! An eleven-year-old child who not only lost his parents, but his childhood, first to those despicable relatives of his – that weren’t even related by blood - and then to us. We are destroying him! He needs a moment to just be a boy and not be persecuted for it!” Drummond sat down heavily on the settee. Edric took a large gulp of wine; his nerves were shot from worrying about Dumbledore to worrying about Hadrian and worrying about the future of his world.

“I… You’re right.”  
“No I don’t want to hear… What?”  
“You are right. The boy hasn’t had a day off since he arrived and now with Lepus in the picture I think it would be a good idea to let him have today.”

“No. I think we are long overdue for a holiday.” Edric had been planning it for a while. A nice long holiday to celebrate everything. Hadrian hadn’t even had a proper birthday party since the trial. It was time he became more than just a teacher and a Steward – but also a guardian and someone Hadrian could come to despite it all. He had always been good since his arrival. Acting up only when triggered by a memory or when his anger overcame him. It was really no surprise he was fighting back now and pushing his boundaries. It wasn’t unheard of for children that came from abusive backgrounds to test their limits. In a way, it was better that he was testing them now – instead of in court – when they could be controlled and be used to press the importance of the boy’s new role.

“What were you thinking?” Drummond pressed.

“I doubt Harry has seen much of the world besides London and the countryside, and Lepus is hardly any better. I want to truly give both of them a break.”

“Perhaps what the children need is not time out of the country, only a few days to resettle. The Ancestral Black House in London has been in disrepair since Walburga’s untimely demise. It is near enough London that trips to shopping centers and the like wouldn’t be out of the question. Not to mention a number of parks that are in apparating distance.” It wasn’t a bad idea. It would get both of the boys out of Blackwell Hall and away from lessons for a while. A different location was all that was needed sometimes.

“Not to mention it keeps a Black Property out of Dumbledore’s hands.” There was that. If the Head of House Black made Grimmauld his second home outside of Ravensfoot, then Sirius couldn’t make it the central HQ for Dumbledore’s group of vigilantes. Sirius would be allowed to live there, of course, but only at his Head of House’s discretion. Any loans of the property, or even subletting, would have to be brought towards Hadrian – Lucius by proxy.

* * *

Hadrian was ashamed to say he was hiding. Edric had been demanding more and more from him by the day, and with the added stress of his godfather being released from Azkaban he had made the decision to hide away for several hours. Lepus had found him earlier that morning, camping out in the library. It hadn’t been his best hiding spot he admitted, but he needed somewhere to just lay low and relax. It was Lepus who had helped him with his current hiding spot. He had discovered it a few weeks ago while exploring, Hadrian had been in lessons and he had been bored. Hadrian had made a mental note to include his “ward” in more things, perhaps have him enrolled in lessons beyond what Edric had started him on. Lepus had mentioned a passing interest in Arithmancy.

So here he was, slowly working through a novel he had discovered hidden away in a secret study behind the empty portrait of a Black Lord long dead. It was very good and enthralled him completely but had little to no educational content. He knew he needed to emerge from his hiding spot soon. Edric had already stopped outside his hiding place twice searching for him. He had been angry the first time, the second he had been more worried than anything. Hadrian could tell in his voice.

The portrait suddenly swung open. Lepus stood in the doorway, a small grin on his face.

“Come on.”  
“What’s going on?  
“Edric asked me to get you. We’re going out.” Curious, Hadrian dislodged himself from his position on the large wing-back chair he had made his nest.

“Where?”  
“No idea.”

Edric was in the living room when the two boys finally made their reappearance. Hadrian was more than a little nervous about the reaction he would get. Edric had never been outright furious with him before, but his disappointment stung worse than Vernon’s belt or a sharp word ever could. Hadrian wanted to hang his head and shuffle cautiously towards his guardian, but he knew that the punishment for appearing weak would be worse than the punishment for hiding from his lessons and wasting Drummond’s time.

“Hadrian, Lepus. I’m glad you could find the time to see me. Especially after the runabout put me through.” Hadrian gulped.

“I apologise Sir.” Hadrian whispered. All thoughts of looking strong flying out the window as he fell back on old habits. He hadn’t called Edric “sir” in months, but his sudden fear of rejection and punishment was overpowering his common sense.

“Actually, Hadrian, I feel that I’m the one who should be apologizing. I feel that I have pushed you too far and too fast. Your recovery went so remarkably well that I felt you were ready to take on more responsibility. You are a truly special little boy Harry.” Hadrian looked up at the slip. Edric had never called him “Harry”. The name had been all but banned since he had been rescued from the Dursleys.

“Sir?”

“We are going away for a while Hadrian. I have decided that you both have earned a vacation from your lessons and this dingy house before the new school year begins.”

* * *

 

Grimmauld Place was very much the dingy, uninhabited town house that Edric was expecting, but to Harry and Lepus it was full of other-worldly potential. No sooner had they been inside the house than they were already running amok.

Edric made it clear that they were to occupy the guest bedrooms until other arrangements could be made for the possessions of Sirius and Regulus Black. Sirius’ belongings would be left as they were, the man would be able to claim them as soon as he was cleared by St. Mungo’s. Regulus on the other hand, would need to have his possessions carefully sorted through and stored in the Black Vaults. Other than that, the boys had free reign.

Hadrian had immediately made it his goal to find the library, still somewhat wary of the holiday, having never had one before. Lepus on the other hand had immediately taken to exploring. Blackwell Hall had been large and seemingly full of potential on the outside, but the inside was very organized and clearly laid out. Their home had very little to explore. Grimmauld however… that was an adventure waiting to happen.

“Remember, dinner at seven.” Edric called after them, both calling back distracted affirmatives. The man had no doubt that at least one of them would need summoning. With a shake of his head he called the old family house elf, Kreacher.

As the steward and guardian of the Black Lord he had the only other right to call the older house elf. He hadn’t expected the sneering and utter vile thing that appeared before him.

“Master’s Keeper called?” He spat out.

“I did. What are your standing orders Kreacher?”

“Maintain the House of Black’s Property. Kreacher keeps the rooms of the Black Masters.” The old thing grumbled and scuffed at the floor. He didn’t seem too happy with those directives.

“And why is the house in such disarray? Have you been acting in violation of these orders Kreacher?” Edric asked.

“Kreacher maintains poor master Regulus’ room and Poor Mistress’ room. Kreacher has fulfilled his last directives from Mistress Black.” It was pitiful really, the state of the elf and the house. The old elf had been around for generations already and had likely spent a large amount of time alone, his only tie to the Black family thus far in Azkaban or too frail to leave his seat.

“Are you aware of the new Black Lord Kreacher?”

“Kreacher knows. Noble House of Black is now kept by Mudbloods and Blood Traitors. Kreacher knows.” Edric kept himself from lashing out. Violence would do him no good in this situation, and the old thing had likely lived in expectation of a slap or a kick. Violence and madness were staples in the Black bloodline.

“There will be no more of that language here Kreacher. And I would like for you to start on restoring this place to its former glory, am I understood? The Lord Black is in residence.” The old elf sneered but gave a short – mocking – bow. “And Kreacher… Only the Lord Black and myself are to be obeyed unless otherwise commanded. Am I clear?”

“Kreacher understands.” The house elf grumbled, already shuffling off to begin its task.  
‘I should bring more elves here to help him with his task.’ Edric though briefly, making a mental note.

The house itself wasn’t too bad, just poorly kept. With a few extra hands it would be back to its former glory, and Edric wondered how long it had been since it was in full repair. Putting the thought out of his mind he made his way up to the remaining guest rooms. The stairs creaked beneath his feet and the sound of bugs scuttling around were easy to pick out now that Hadrian and Lepus had made themselves scarce. He wondered for the first time if he had made the right decision in bringing them to this broken down house. He had played it off as a holiday when it had just been too great an opportunity to pass up.

“I don’t know what to do.” He whispered, hoping that something would come to him. He had already made mistakes with both Hadrian and Lepus. And he had many more to make.

* * *

 

Lepus hadn’t been expecting this when Edric had called for a Holiday. He had been expecting the seaside or a small country cottage in Scotland. London was hardly a holiday when they were making their way too and from at least twice a week, but he wasn’t going to voice his complaints. The house was cool though.

“Lepus?” He turned around, catching Hadrian’s eye.  
“What’s up?”  
“Want to do something?” It appeared that they were both at a loss. They had free time, for once.

“Like what?” Hadrian shrugged. He never shrugged – Edric had made it clear that shrugging was never an adequate response. To be honest, Lepus didn’t think there was much to do here.

“We could explore the upper floors?” He suggested. Hadrian gave a small smile. Lepus had learned early on that Hadrian was just as awkward as he was, but still wanted company just as much as he did. They were still hanging in a tentative friendship, neither one quite sure how to interact with the other, but it was a great deal stronger than it had been during the first weeks of Lepus’ arrival. Not to mention they were both far too busy studying different things. He grinned back. Edric would throw a fit if he knew what they were just about to get up to, but to be fair he had basically given them free reign.

“Race you.” He whispered, barely daring to be saying the words. Edric detested running in the house. With a grin Hadrian took off.

“Cheater!” He shouted after him, before following barely a second later.

They almost flew up the stairs, feet pounding on the unstable ground, careless of what they might knock over. For once, Lepus felt like a kid. Hadrian was fast, and for his size he could move quickly, making him want to catch him all the more. Sure he had had a head start, but it wasn’t that much of one and Lepus had always thought he was quick enough to match the younger boys speed.

They were just two boys, running amok and breaking rules. All bets were off and briefly Lepus wondered what Edric had expected.

* * *

 

By the time the evening had rolled around both boys were exhausted. Their afternoon race had earned them both a stern glare from Edric, but his twinkling eyes and small smile had betrayed him. They spent the rest of the evening in the library, Hadrian having found it almost immediately upon arrival, playing wizards chess. Lepus had taken a moment to watch Edric and Hadrian play. Their moves were similar, both waiting and calculating before a move was made. The two were racing, neck and neck, but ultimately it was Edric who took home the win. He was a stronger player, his strategy honed from years of experience. Experience and practice that Hadrian didn’t have yet. Lepus wouldn’t have lasted a moment against Edric. All in all it was nice. The companionship and relaxation that they were experiencing almost made them feel like a real family. Something Lepus had longed for since early childhood, and he was sure Hadrian had wished for the same.

“I’m glad we could do this.” He whispered, daring to voice his thoughts. Edric looked over at him with a smile.  
“Me too.” Hadrian was blushing as he whispered this.

“I’m happy that I am able to provide you with at least some measure of enjoyment before school begins again. I realised I had been putting too much pressure on you both. I sincerely apologise.” Edric looked each of them in the eye, making it clear just how much his apology meant. Lepus always knew when someone meant their words. The Braxton’s had spewed more lies from their lips than spit, and it was still a surprise that he had never noticed the lie staring him in the face the entire time. His own parentage. Looking back at it all now he realised that Lady – if you could call her that – Braxton had known the whole time. Every time she had looked at him and called him a bastard whore’s son, she had known that he had never been a product of her husband. She had wielded that weapon like a sword, knowing how much he hated to hear of his own illegitimacy. But she had lied. He had been a child between two well-known Death Eaters, but an intentional one and an expected one. He almost didn’t know if it was better. But he knew that life here, with Hadrian and Edric, was better than anything he would ever have, or have again.

“Lepus, what’s wrong?” Hadrian asked, concern in his eyes.

“Nothing. Just…” How to say it, “I…I’m not sure I want to go to Hogwarts.”  
“But you’ve been looking forward to this since you came to live with us.” Hadrian said.  
“I know. It’s just…” He broke off, embarrassed to be worried about losing his new family.

“You are worried we’ll forget about you? Or that we won’t want you back?” Edric reasoned. Lepus blushed. Hadrian suddenly snorted out a laugh. Then another.  
“It’s not _funny_!” Lepus threw the book he was holding at his friend, which only made Hadrian laugh harder.

“You’re scared that we won’t want you?! Lepus, I’m going to be _begging_ to have you back by the second week! Who else is going to drag me out of the library for supper, or make sure I do something beyond schoolwork.” Hadrian burst out between peals of laughter. Lepus felt his anxiety die with the words and a bubble of laughter build up inside his chest. Hadrian – as usual – was right.

“Yeah right. Maybe you’ll actually get something done for once,” He retorted “You’ll be this perfect prince when I get back. A real prat.”

Hadrian threw a pillow at his head, laughing as he did it.

Edric watched in exasperation as decorum and manners flew out the window, and the boys were just boys. Something that had been keeping them from completely bonding had vanished within these last few hours and by the time they had to leave he had no doubt that they would be nigh inseparable.

* * *

The week passed in a blur. Hadrian could barely remember it all. He had learned how to fly, broken as many rules as he could, and actually managed to just be. It was glorious. And exhausting. He finally managed to carve out a moment alone under the ruse of taking a well earned nap before lunch and had wandered through the upper floors of Grimmauld Place, just looking at the architecture and reveling in the ghostly feeling that the old Black property evoked. Pushing open a random door Hadrian was surprised to find an office. It was large and completely untouched since the last owner had left it. Dried ink was still in pots and the quills had begun to rot. A few pieces of parchment – eaten away by moths and doxies – were scattered on the floor. A fly bumped against the dust covered window.

Hadrian pulled open a drawer and squeaked as a pixie made its escape, right into his face.

“Get of!” It scattered as his arms waved, accidentally striking it.

Inside the drawer was a few bits of spare parchment and two leather bound journals. Hadrian carefully flipped through the first, empty pages stared back at him. The second was much the same, except for a loose photograph that fluttered to the floor. It was an old school portrait of a young man with his friends. They were sitting together, carefully arranged, in what looked to be a courtyard. He flipped it over hoping for an inscription.

_Right to Left: Thaddeus Avery, Jeremiah Burke, Uriah Prince, Ephram “Cadmus” Caldwell, Arcturus Black. Seventh Year, Hogwarts Courtyard, 1853._

Arcturus Black the first was the only one Harry recognized, his portrait – older and far craggier than the others – was mounted in Ravensfoot. He only recognized the name Prince from Drummond, and the surnames of the other two from the numerous books on pureblood culture and customs. But the name Caldwell was foreign to him. He didn’t even recognize the pictures from any of the portraits he had possession of.

Whatever Arcturus Black the first – or whichever descendant – had been working on, he had never finished. It looked important though, judging by the disorganized mess that the office was in and the number of open books and maps.

Suddenly he could hear footsteps on the stairs and something within him urged him to hide this room and whatever his ancestor had been working on. Without thinking he slipped the journals under his arm and vacated the room, making sure that he wasn’t seen. He needed to go back to the room at some point. He just wasn’t sure he would ever get the chance.

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here you all go. I know it's a bit short but this is what I could manage. 
> 
> Also, my laptop broke so i don't know when I'm going to get the chance to update after this. Working at school is super awkward. Also, please check out my new Facebook page, there will be updates posted there. i know it's a Page for me and not a Person you can "friend request" but facebook wouldn't accept my name suggestions *sigh*. But please - as they say on Youtube - like and subscribe so that you can be updated on new chapters and upcoming stories. I have a few notes on there would love some feedback.
> 
> Facebook link: https://www.facebook.com/DNStalker/
> 
> Hope you enjoyed  
> DNStalker


	11. The First Move

Chapter 11: The First Move

It was mid-August when the announcement was made. Harry Potter would not be going to Hogwarts. Not this year, nor any year. Albus Dumbledore had expected public outrage. The people had been waiting to see their saviour in the public eye (and he had been waiting to cut the ties between the Potter heir and his steward) and now they would be sorely disappointed.

He had sent a few letters to Edric Blackwell hoping for an arrangement, or at the very least a truce. None had been returned and it was down-right infuriating. He had never been so railroaded before, or at least not to this degree. Lucius Malfoy had been a blockage for his ideals numerous times before, and he had been banking on the Potter holdings and votes coming his way. For the first time in a long time, Albus Dumbledore was backed into a corner.

Since the take-over of the Black Lordship Phineas Black had been missing. Albus had placed a black veil over the frame that sat in his office, to block the possibility of a spy in his office. Not that it did much, he couldn’t remove the portrait, nor any of the blank frames that were open to any of the portraits. Besides, as a headmaster of Hogwarts he had a right to hang in the headmaster’s office and watch over the future of the Wizarding World. It was an honour that Albus one day hoped he would receive.

Minister Fudge had left him an option – one he had been hesitant to take since it had been proposed – but it now appeared to be his only option. He had seen the world that his parents had lived in, back when Gellert had been his closest friend - perhaps Gellert had been a part of his decision to fight against the monarchy, or perhaps it was from the way he had seen his sister abandoned and his family dragged through the dirt – and it had been a mess of those with power against those without. Hardly a world to bring the fresh eyes of the Muggleborn students into.

“Albus, he has to be stopped. This could bring the foundations of our world to its knees.” Fudge had arrived in his office the moment the announcement had hit the papers, his red, sweaty face almost bulging with the heat of his rage. Albus had always appreciated the man’s tenacity and utter gullibility. While he was a man who enjoyed the power and respect that came with teaching the younger generation – and being the defeater of Grindlewald – Fudge was the kind of person who thrived off of the public’s eye. He was the kind of person who made an excellent figurehead. Unfortunate for some, but for people like Albus and Lucius Malfoy, a figurehead was all they needed. And Fudge clung to those who would tell him what to do, and how to retain what little power he had convinced himself he had.

“I know Cornelius. But staging a coup against a regime that hasn’t even laid its foundations is just asking for a martyr. We have to make it impossible for Edric Blackwell to gain any reputation beyond that of a half-blood under the protection of house Potter.” A vassal-lord never really amounted to anything. It was a well-known fact. This was one place where Albus was content to let bias lie. Purebloods were in general agreement that if you were allied or a vassal to a lord then you were already ahead of the game. Muggleborns and half-bloods were of the opinion that if you became a vassal of a lord that meant you had a future in the ministry.

It was a mistake that the general populous had made that they assumed Albus Dumbledore was a saint. He had as much to gain by letting the old, feudal, system of vassals and lords remain as any pureblood.

“How do you suppose we do that?” Fudge really was a moron at times, but somehow Albus found it endearing.

“At the moment, we do nothing. Once Sirius Black becomes healthy again he will want to take guardianship of his godson. With some careful prodding by the ministry, and some gentle guidance of the boy himself, Harry will be in Hogwarts before his third year.” He gently coaxed. He knew what Fudge wanted. The blithering, bumbling, Minister of Magic had never had the patience to play the long game.

“Third year?! Albus with that sort of time…” Fudge exclaimed.

“Patience is the name of this game Cornelius. Without it we will start a war with a very politically powerful child.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, “What do you want me to do?”

“Work on having Lepus Lestrange removed from that household. His mother is a menace to society. Who can say whether or not he would follow in her footsteps. We need to keep him in an environment where he can be carefully monitored and controlled.” And with those final orders, Fudge removed himself from the headmaster’s office.

Albus had everything under control.

* * *

Cornelius Fudge was not an idiot. He knew when he was being manipulated and he knew when he was being used. Did it suit him to be seen as a figurehead for two powerful entities to control? Yes. Yes, it did. Because even though he would receive the fall out of bad decision making – something that suited Lucius and Dumbledore just fine – he also received full credit when he made the right decision. He enjoyed the power that being minister afforded him. The respect. But what neither Malfoy nor Dumbledore knew, was that Cornelius had been waiting for an opportunity that the Potter boy presented.

At first he had been terrified that Potter would immediately rise to claim the throne and his position would be usurped. He had not waited for years, scrounging in the dirt and the mud for scraps of attention, just to be thrown aside. He had outlasted the Dark Lord, he had outlasted the questions of Albus Dumbledore stealing his position away from him. He would outlast Potter’s little attempt at taking his due from him. But now, reminded that Potter was just a boy of eleven – barely that – his fear abated. Potter had been found late and could be turned early. They just needed him out of that insidious man, Lord Blackwell’s, hands. Cornelius had plans for the boy.

“Mary, cancel all my appointments for the day. I’ll be out until late.” Cornelius didn’t even wait for a reply from his secretary before he was out of the office and down the hall towards the elevator.

“Department of Mysteries please.” Down he went. The Department of Mysteries wasn’t somewhere he went often, he rather hated the place. But this visit was warranted. Few people knew this, but Cornelius hadn’t been idle during the Death Eater trials. Those that were suspected, but in high or valuable positions in the Ministry had been carefully selected and any evidence that may have been against them quietly disappeared. Augustus Rookwood was one of those few that had made it past the initial screening – based on an Unbreakable Vow of obedience. Rookwood had been a valuable member of the Death Eaters, one of the Dark Lords most important pieces in the war. He had been a rising member of the Unspeakables, a star when it came to Magical Experimentation and unconventional thinking. Perhaps it helped that he was a known psychopath and sadist and had no care for whatever victims – or “test subjects” as he called them – were feeling. Whatever it was that made him so valuable to Voldemort, made him valuable now. It had been a known fact that Rookwood could turn the strongest of people into slaves for the Dark Lord. Cornelius had seen the profiles of victims that had been dug out of the dungeons beneath Ironwood – the ancestral home of the Rookwood family. It had made him shudder before, but now it made him giddy.

He found Rookwood standing before a bubbling cauldron, his heavy robes obscured his face, but Cornelius could tell it was him.

“Rookwood.” He called. He didn’t need to go over to the man, he was not some lowly ministry worker looking for a favour from the infamous man. He was Minister of Magic, and basically the man’s master.

“Minister.” Rookwood’s gravelly voice grated on his ears. For a moment Cornelius wished he could remove the man’s voice. It was irritating to the ears.

“I have a need for your services. We have much to discuss.” He would know where to meet him.

“I’m afraid I have a very busy afternoon. You may be waiting a while.” God Cornelius hated the bastard. Of all those he had saved, Rookwood was the least appreciative and most argumentative. If he hadn’t been so valuable, he would have thrown the man to the dementors long ago.

“Remember your vow, Rookwood.” Cornelius growled out.

“I have forgotten nothing Minister. But if you want me to leave this potion to explode, killing the entire department and destroying everything within these walls, then I shall. Simply say the word.”

“Fine. In your own time then.” He hissed out. There were days he wished that torture was a viable option for this man.

It took four hours after the initial summons for Augustus to make his way to the usual meeting spot. A seedy pub in the bowels of Knockturn Alley. The man had discarded his heavy robes, opting instead for something lighter but still expensive and beautifully crafted.

“Took you long enough.”

“Don’t be pissy Fudge. You told me to take my time.” Rookwood took the seat across from Fudge, a smirk firmly of his wrinkled face. He looked old, far older than before the trials. Fudge said as much.

“Well, you’re no fresh daisy yerself Minister. I don’t think the job agrees with you.” Cornelius scowled. The bastard was right, the power and prestige agreed with him, but he hadn’t expected the sheer stress that came with it all.

“Enough of this. I have a job for you.” Rookwood simply nodded, he had expected that much. He didn’t see Fudge often, but when he did, it usually came with a job. “Harry Potter has turned down Hogwarts, opting instead for Home Study. Dumbledore is confident in the belief that we will have him back in our grasp before he turns thirteen. That timeline doesn’t agree with me. I’m giving you a year. By the end of the year I want him kneeling at my feet begging me for approval, in absolute adoration.”

“You want to fuck him?” Cornelius reeled back. The implications of his desire hadn’t quite occurred to him yet. He shook his head.

“No. I want him willing to do whatever I tell him, I want his magic at my disposal. And you are going to get it for me.” Rookwood seemed to consider the order, perhaps because it gave them the illusion of choice.

“And how do you propose I get him?”

“Hardly my problem.”

Rookwood grinned.

* * *

Lepus had written out his name. His full name. _‘Lepus Aldolphus Lestrange, Black’_. It was a strange name, too many letters, and a nuisance to write by hand. Edric had assured him that he would only need to write his first and family names, the middle was more of a formality that very few nowadays used. The name would be on official documents like his certificate of birth and bank records, but he didn’t need to sign with it.

He had been thinking about who he was ever since his return from Grimmauld Place. They’d had fun, but Hadrian was never one to let his brain switch off. Ever since their last day and subsequent return he had been distant, wrapped up in whatever books he had discovered hidden away in the Black Library. Hadrian was still a mystery to Lepus. They could be as childish as four-year-olds on some days, but others it was like Hadrian had been a grown up for decades. Currently he was hiding away in the library researching family lines that had disappeared. Lepus had just figured it was something to do with his other houses he was responsible for.

Regardless, he hadn’t seen his brother (and make no mistake, that was what they had agreed on) in days.

“Lepus?” Edric was at his door.

“Yes?” The lord looked haggard as he entered the room, taking a seat on his bed. Lepus supposed it had something to do with the constant hackling by Albus Dumbledore. The man had no idea that he needed to give up.

“I had hoped that we would not come to this so quickly, but the Wizarding World is very good at making a fuss when it suits them. Do you remember when I gave Hadrian his portkey?” Lepus nodded.

“He went through a great deal of training dummies. I barely managed to pull him away from it.” Edric gave a little chuckle, a fond look crossing his face. Lepus was abruptly reminded of how much Hadrian had probable changed since the first few months with Edric. The eleven-year-old – well, ten-year-old – boy had never been more grown up than these recent days. Lepus had theorised that the maturity was a magic given gift, something that had come when he had acknowledged his birthright and destiny. Magic wouldn’t likely accept her first conduit to be a bumbling idiot.

“Yes. He always did have a temper on him. And ridiculous amount of stubbornness. But you understand that I gave that to him for his protection?” Again, he nodded. He knew that Hadrian was far more important than he could understand. The offspring of a Malfoy and the blood of kings. It was a wonder that he hadn’t developed the Malfoy arrogance. After meeting Draco, Lupin thought the big-headedness was an inherited trait.

Edric pulled a small box out of his pocket, handing it to Lepus.

“What’s this?” He opened the box. Inside sat a small pendant, the Lestrange sigil carved out of delicate silver. He could feel the tingle of magic underneath the coat of varnish.

“A portkey Lepus.” Edric was scarily sincere in his voice. And somehow, sad. “That will take you to a safe house I have set up with Lord Prince.”

“Not Malfoy Manor?”

“That is correct. Should the enemy capture you, it would be better off if their targets were not going to the same place. It is for both of your safety.” Lepus understood the motivation behind it, he just didn’t like it. “You are going to take it to Hogwarts with you, keep it hidden but always on your person. Do you understand what I am saying Lepus?”

“You’re saying I’m in danger. As much as Hadrian is.” He had learned early to read between the lines. He hadn’t considered that Hadrian and he were in the same amount of danger, purely by existing in the same house. By knowing the same people. Edric nodded. They were both in danger.

“We have heard that Albus Dumbledore is making plans. And Cornelius Fudge hasn’t exactly been subtle about his desire to have Hadrian under his thumb. The announcement was made early this morning that Hadrian would not be attending Hogwarts. Lucius has heard in the ministry that Fudge met with one of the Unspeakables three hours ago. Augustus Rookwood.”

Lepus had heard the name before. He just wasn’t sure where, but it sent a shiver down his spine.

“This is bigger than I thought, isn’t it?” He whispered. Again, only a nod was his answer. “Then why are you sending me to Hogwarts. If the world outside is as dangerous as you’ve said?”

“Because you should have the opportunity to learn the same as any other Wizarding child. You have already lost a great deal due to those people. You have the opportunity and freedom that Hadrian doesn’t have, and I want you to enjoy that. Albus Dumbledore will try and persuade you to spy for him. Perhaps even try and kidnap you, but the chances of that are slim. He does not have the complete and unwavering support of the entire staff and they will protect you.”

Lepus had to smile. All this time he had thought it was because Hadrian needed spies inside the castle walls, or that Edric hadn’t valued his life as much as he valued Hadrian’s. It was nice, downright exhilarating, to hear his guardian speak to him with such sincerity. Edric cared for him. Perhaps more than he had considered before.

“Thank you.”

* * *

 

Hadrian knew that he needed to stop reading, but the journal of Arcturus Black I was something of an addiction to him. At first, he had attempted to use the book as his own journal, taking it as a gift from his long dead ancestor. The ink he had written with had vanished off the page the moment it touched the parchment. For a moment he had thought to take the book to Edric, but something inside him made him immediately reject that idea. Something inside him wanted that book to belong to him, and only to him. Maybe it was the Black blood calling to him, or perhaps the magic of the Black Family that had demanded he hold the book tightly to his chest. He wasn’t sure. But he knew that he wasn’t afraid, and that whatever it was inside the covers lead to something important, something he had never considered before – or perhaps something he had been looking for and never realized he had been.

He had taken to reading from older versions of Hogwarts a History and speaking to the older portraits of his ancestors. He had even looked to an old tome that held a list of the families of the Wizarding World, looking for something that would give him a clue as to what his ancestor was like. He had realized, as he was flipping through the pages of the genealogy that he wasn’t interested in Arcturus. He was looking for Ephram Caldwell. He had never heard of the Caldwell family, yet he seemed to have been of some significance to his ancestor. In fact, judging by the way Ephram was leaning against Arcturus, arm around his shoulder and slight smirk on his face, the men had been close.

“Who are you Ephram Caldwell?” He whispered, looking at the frozen photograph of the boys. Again, he flipped it over, looking at the delicate scrawl that gave away the men’s identities. His finger caught on the rough edges of the photograph, cutting slightly through the skin.

“Damn it.” He stuck his thumb into his mouth to clean away the welling blood. Suddenly, he froze. He knew what to do. He grabbed the journal off of his desk, reverently turning it over in his fingers. He flipped it open to the center. There he let his finger drip his blood onto the surface of the parchment. Like blood touching water, words spilled out from where his blood dripped. Arcuturus Black had been smart, locking his journal to anyone not of Black blood. Hadrian, as Lord Black, held more ownership over that journal than anyone of direct descent.

_August 18th 1900_   
_I have now seen it all. My dear friend Ephram has been searching for an artefact of great power, something I thought a legend. The Staff of Merlin is a part of our history, not seen since the days of King William the first. Yet my friend hunts it so desperately. Is it not enough that he has the strength of magic and the wands of half our year? I fear that Ephram is losing his grasp on reality. He has been saying such things of late, raving on about the America’s and bringing them back into the monarchy, he does not understand that it was only the muggles that have separated from their crown, wizards are not so foolish. But I fear that great change is coming. The monarchy is facing criticism from their ministers about Grindlewald, my father has expressed his concerns about dissention and anti-monarchy thoughts. I fear that within the next twenty or so years these power-hungry gnats, disloyal ants, will destroy the foundations of our society._

_August 30th 1900_   
_Ephram has vanished. I thought he had gone to America like so many others these days, but I fear he has not. I fear he has taken his search for the Staff to another level and vanished into the pockets of unsettled magical earth. I have spoken long with Thaddeus and he has admitted to me that Ephram made him swear an oath, swear to search for the Staff of Merlin if he did not return by the winter solstice. He told me that Ephram was convinced of the Staff’s power. I am not so sure myself what I believe. Thaddeus has no intention of searching for our friend, nor chasing some fairy tale. He is content in his place, which is not a surprise. His father has been a staunch supporter of the ministry. I believe that the monarchy will never return to the greatness it once possessed._

_September 21, 1900_   
_Ephram sent me a letter today. He said that he had found the Staff of Merlin. He is not expecting his return to the continent for another forty-eight months. I fear for the state of our nation._

_December 03, 1900_   
_Ephram’s body returned to us. He has tasked me with finding the Staff of Merlin. He says that the keys lie in the vault of Camelot. I have been bound to this task. May merlin have mercy on my mortal soul, for this is an impossible task._

Hadrian closed the journal. He vaguely remembered reading about the Staff of Merlin, a storybook he had borrowed from the bottom shelves of the Black library. The Staff had protected the monarchy for centuries, ensuring the next king of Avalon would be a just ruler, placing the welfare of the people of Avalon above power or wealth, before it had gone missing. It was a legend, but how many times had Hadrian realized that legends did not apply to magic.

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: HERE IT IS!!! I have been trying to get this up for weeks now!!! I thought I was going to get this up in July, but did I? No, no I did not. So, apologies. 
> 
> I have an indiegogo campaign up on my facebook page for one of the short films I am a key member on, if any of you want to check that out, maybe shoot me a donation, that would be amazing. Please don't feel obligated though your continued support as my readers is enough.
> 
> As they say on YouTube please like and/or subscribe to my Facebook page, the link is in my profile. There you can find excerpts from upcoming stories and stuff that hasn’t been posted yet. You can also ask me questions, I try to answer usually within the week.


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